Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series
Mr. Sin: Chapter 61

I have to hold in a laugh as I watch Jordan stumble over himself to flee the wrath of Vincent.

Jordan is probably harmless, but he wasn’t taking a hint. Lucky for me, I had the perfect weapon. It took a few careful moves, but I maneuvered us so we’d be in Vincent’s sightline. I knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted me. And I rightfully assumed he’d be much more successful at getting rid of Jordan than I was.

The only reason I’m not currently drooling all over Vincent’s shoes is the fact that I spent five solid minutes earlier staring at him from the corner of the room.

Vincent always looks delicious. Always. But somehow he looks even more lickable tonight. His black suit. Black shirt. Black tie. Dark hair. Soul searching eyes. Stubble shadowing his face. He’s utterly lickable. And he’s mine. All mine.

“Sweetheart. You’re fucking killing me.” Vincent’s tone as his eyes travel over my body is so heated my thighs clench.

I school my features. “Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Vincent leans in, under the guise of talking over the drone of noise in the room. His lips brush against the shell of my ear with each word. “Baby, if you think you can tease me, you have a lesson coming your way. I’m going to tie you to my bed and fuck that sweet look right off your face.” His fingertips start at the top of my bare shoulder and slowly drag down my arm, causing my skin to pebble. “And each man you introduce me to will equal one denied orgasm. So, if you want me to let you come later, you’re going to knock that shit off.”

I don’t know if I should laugh or strip down right here.

His fingers wrap around my wrist. The grip tight, but not bruising. “Nod if you understand me, sweetheart.”

I nod.

“Good girl.” He straightens to his full height and gives me another slow once over. “Goddamn. I can’t decide if I want to plaster you to my side, showing you off as mine, or if I want to lock you in a closet while I rip out the eyes of every man who dares to look at you.”

This time I do laugh. “Darling, I’ve worked so hard to give you a nice image. Please don’t ruin it tonight by mutilating your guests.”

Vincent tilts his head, as though considering his options, before he changes the subject. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Smiling, I look around the room. “Yeah. Your event team is talented. I know I saw this space the other day, but with the finishing touches and all the beautiful people, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

I’m telling the truth. The ballroom that we’re in is large enough to hold a few hundred guests. It boasts two full-service bars, black-tie servers with trays of food, and one wall full of professionally displayed auction items.

Vincent hums an agreement. “If there’s something you want to bid on, just write down your name. I’ll buy it.”

I dart my eyes towards the gorgeous hand blown vase on display before I shake my head. “Vincent.”

He squeezes my wrist. “You’re already testing my patience in that dress. Bid on whatever you want. Don’t push me on this.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I’m cut off.

“Mr. Mazzanti.”

I look over and replace that bitch Amanda standing right the fuck there.

I know I should put some distance between Vincent and I, but it’s too late now. Plus, I don’t want to. The way she’s been fawning all over Vincent has me wanting to join him in ripping out some eyeballs.

“They’d like to start your speech soon.” Amanda says, her voice throatier than usual.

Vincent’s thumb rubs circles on my skin. “Of course. And you are?”

“Oh, um, I’m Amanda. From PR.” She glances at me, cheeks turning pink, before she looks away.

Vincent winks at me and my mouth pops open. This prick knew exactly who that bitch Amanda was and embarrassed her anyways. God, I really do love this asshole.

He doesn’t bother lowering his voice as he speaks to me. “Find something good for us to bid on. I’ll be upset if we don’t win at least one item.” And if that wasn’t enough, Vincent leans in and presses a kiss to my temple.

I’m too stunned to reply. Or react in any way.

I’m still standing in the same spot a minute later when my clutch vibrates. I pull my phone out and see a text from Vincent. Four hours until midnight. Then your assignment is over. And you’re mine.

This man flusters me when he isn’t even trying, so when he actually puts effort into it… I’m a helpless puddle of a human being.

Needing a distraction, I look around for Jessica. Between her black hair and the siren-red dress I know she’s wearing; she should be easy to spot. On my first scan of the crowd I replace her, tucked into a corner with Eric. Not wanting to bother them, but still needing to burn off some of this Vincent-induced tension, I head towards the doors.

The large double doors are propped open since it’s the sort of event where people will come and go. We’re on the second floor, and the lobby area outside the ballroom is spacious and just as nicely furnished as the rest of the building.

Grabbing a glass of wine off a passing tray, I step out into the lobby where it’s much quieter and approach the balcony that looks out over the main entrance on the first floor.

I feel like I can breathe a little easier out here. The sounds and energy of the gala are still nearby, but no longer so overwhelming.

Vincent’s reaction to my dress was on par for all the other men I ran into tonight. It’s great to feel sexy and desired, but the constant stares are a bit stifling. Plus, there’s the underlying stress of being a lone woman fending off unwanted advances. In such a short time, I’ve gotten used to the protection that Vincent offers. Simply standing next to him, I know nothing can touch me. But being without him, I feel like my armor is missing.

“Sasha, there you are!”

I smile as I turn to face the voice. “Hi, Brent!”

Vincent’s assistant looks GQ handsome in a slender-fit grey suit and bow tie.

He whistles. “Damn girl, you look fuckable as hell.”

A laugh gets stuck in my throat and comes out as a snort. “Oh my god, you did not just say that.”

Brent grins. “I must not tell lies.”

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Indeed.” He agrees. “But I’m glad I found you; I was about to give up.”

“I’m at your service. What did you need?”

“There’s a reporter looking for you. I think he had some questions he wanted to ask before Vincent gets up to speak.” Brent looks at his watch. “Which is in like two minutes.”

I step away from the railing. “Oh, no problem.”

“I’m going to head back in there.” Brent nods to the ballroom. “I left the reporter by the elevators, but it took me awhile to replace you, so he might’ve moved.”

“I’ll replace him. What does he look like?”

Brent shrugs. “Bald. Nerdy. Not my type.”

I give him an Annie eye roll. “Helpful.”

Brent laughs then breaks off to go through the open doors. It’s not until after he’s gone that I remember there are two sets of elevators.

Not wanting to miss Vincent’s speech, I move as quickly as my deadly heels allow.

There are a few people chatting near the elevators, but none of them are bald men. I slip past them and continue down the hall. The other bank is just around the corner.

It only takes me a second to realize that there’s no one over here. I shake my head at myself as I turn around. Or course he’s not at the far set of elevators. That wouldn’t even make sense.

I’ve taken one step when a hand lands on my shoulder. The sensation’s so startling that I jolt and turn towards the touch on instinct. That’s when the pain hits. A sharp, stinging sensation in my neck. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out.

A second later the pain stops. Replaced by a spreading warmth. My neck, my shoulders, my arms. The feeling is like nothing I’ve experienced before.

I know something is wrong, but I can’t figure out what’s happening to me. My chest feels heavy. My brain’s fuzzy. My thoughts can’t keep up with my body. But my soul is screaming at me. It’s shouting to me that I’m in danger.

I try to run. Try to push my foot forward. It doesn’t move.

Something circles my waist, pulling me backwards.

I stumble. My arms not cooperating. They’re hanging limp at my sides rather than reaching out to break my fall.

But I don’t fall. My body is pressed against… something. Someone.

The sensation of touching a stranger, fuels the terror already spiraling down my spine.

I’m moving.

It’s like I’m having an out of body experience. I can see my feet out in front of me. I’m being dragged. My purse is on the floor. My glass of wine laying shattered across the tile.

My heels make a scraping sound as they’re pulled over an uneven surface.

Blackness swims over my vision. I blink hard. My mouth is still trying to form words but no sound comes out.

I blink again.

With my vision narrowing, I watch in horror as the elevator doors slide shut in front of me.