Scandalous (Sinners of Saint Book 3)

I SPENT THE REST OF the day on the beach, alone. I didn’t have time to tell Trent what had happened, and I wanted to have that conversation face-to-face. I was buzzing with adrenaline and high on the danger of what I’d done. So, after calling the rehab facility where Mom had been checked into the day before, I went to the beach to spend some time with the violent ocean. We understood one another. I sat in front of the setting sun, my toes in the sand, hugging my knees and listening to the sounds of seagulls and waves crashing ashore.

I didn’t even notice when it got chilly, staying put until about eight in the evening, when I knew for certain Trent and Luna would be home. Showing up at his doorstep unannounced was something I’d never dreamt of doing before, but this wasn’t the type of conversation you had over the phone.

As I made my way to his building, I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to be worried about. After all, I had turned my father down in the end. I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t give up Trent’s secrets.

I thanked God there was no doorman at Trent’s building, because if there was, he’d have had to call him up through the switchboard and announce my arrival. I couldn’t face it if Trent had said he didn’t want to see me. But I certainly felt like things could still go wrong as I took the elevator up to his penthouse.

My feet felt impossibly heavy on the marble floor. Step after step after step.

My ocean. My secret. My weakness.

I rapped the door three times, listening carefully. Behind it, there was the soft sound of Luna’s chuckle. It wasn’t exactly a laugh—Luna never laughed—but it was the sound she made when she was pleased. It put a smile on my face before the door swung open.

But when it did…

Camila shot a confused smile when she saw me. Behind her was a woman I didn’t know, but I recognized. She had tan skin, long raven hair, and light eyes. She looked like a supermodel—like Adriana Lima—and she wore a tight pink dress that highlighted how curvy she was.

She was crouching, her butt parked on the back of her Prada heels, admiring the stuffed seahorse Luna held in her hands. An identical seahorse to the one Daria had ruined.

Luna’s mother. She was beautiful and right and she belonged.

I felt nausea washing over my body and stumbled backwards, feeling my throat closing up. A bitter lump twisted inside it. Don’t cry.

“What are you doing here, Edie?” Camila’s face was etched with surprise.

“Is this another nanny? Gosh, Carmella, is it? Don’t let her stand there. Invite her in.” The woman stood up, adjusting her tiny dress and strutting her way to the door. She wore a smile that told me she’d already won. It was carved with allure and dripped intention.

She’d been gone for years. It was some kind of sign from the universe to show me Trent and Luna were better off without me. That they had someone better than my father’s daughter. The one who tried to get Trent kicked off the board. I didn’t deserve them.

She was Luna’s mother.

I couldn’t compete with her.

I didn’t even want to.

“Why are you here? Are you in trouble?” Camila pressed, just when Val stopped by her side, putting her hand on Camila’s shoulder.

Camila, not Carmella, you idiot.

“It’s fine if she wants to babysit the kid. Trent and I have a lot to talk about. We could use some privacy. Maybe go down to the marina and grab a bite.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to get away from the situation so bad, I was contemplating jumping off his terrace. The elevator and the stairs weren’t fast enough. The only reason I didn’t barge in and plunge to my death was because I didn’t want Luna to be scarred for life.

I turned around and ran away, jerking open the door to the stairway. My legs moved quickly, much like they had when I was stealing. Tap, tap, tap, tap. The adrenaline felt different, though. More suffocating.

One floor, then another. Blood rushed to my head, and I could faintly hear the door open wider and Trent asking who it was. His echo carried all the way down. He sounded…chilled. Like a man who’d been reunited with the mother of his child and was probably relieved to have her back in their lives.

Alone. I was all alone.

No mother. No father. No friends. No Trent.

I ran for a while, passing my car, which was parked at the promenade by the beach, and all the stores, and all the people, and all the things I used to love but couldn’t look at anymore. This whole street was soaked of memories of Trent. The ocean, too. The first time he’d played with me, with my breasts, with my nipples, with my heart, after I was done surfing. All the wires in my brain sizzled. Would I ever be able to set foot in this place again? To surf? To breathe?

The only solace was that Jordan couldn’t see me like this. He’d say I’d reaped what I’d sown. Remind me that I was nothing but a stupid slut who’d served as a plaything to a man who’d relentlessly searched for this one woman for years. I’d been a passing diversion, a fling.

The blisters on my feet were beginning to swell as darkness washed over the shore. I’d reached the other end of the town, stopping by the marina where the boats were docked. I had to take off my boots and limp the rest of the way. The wood was cool and soothing against my aching feet. I stopped by a small, white, and rusty houseboat floating next to the deck calmly, like it didn’t have a care in the world, just like its owner.

I realized I hadn’t called him before my arrival, again, making the same mistake I had with Trent.

But Bane wasn’t Trent. Bane was a friend. In fact, we’d never been losers. Neither of us could destroy the other person.

I climbed aboard his boat and knocked on his door. He opened, shirtless, a girl and a guy—both half-naked—sitting on his bed. His blond hair was shaggy and his eyes were red from smoking.

“I need you,” I croaked, feeling the tears in my eyes again.

Bane nodded solemnly, not taking a breath before he instructed, “Craig, Shea, get your asses out of here.”

I collapsed into his arms. He held me together loosely, like the safety pins on my backpack, making me feel no less forlorn than I did when I got on his boat.

Then, my only friend in the world clutched me close to his chest and whispered into my ear, “I told you so.”