Reveling in Sin Read online

  I’m alive, and this man is mine.

  27

  Lincoln

  Over and over, I plunge into Whitney’s slick, tight pussy, and I know I’m home. I stretch, reaching down to tap her clit with my thumb, and her muscles tense before they ripple with an orgasm, clenching around my cock until I almost succumb.

  But I’m not ready yet. With this woman, I’m never ready. I never want to pull away and leave her. I want to spend the rest of my life and beyond wrapped in her arms, because that’s where I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

  Whitney Gable is the only woman I’ll ever love. I’ve known that for a decade, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself.

  “I love you so much, Blue. Always.”

  Her blue eyes are hazy when she replies. “Always.”

  I thrust harder and deeper, waiting for her body to give me the signal again, and I don’t have to wait long. Her pussy clamps down on me like a vise, and I’m lost.

  My roar is loud enough to bring down the house, and I don’t care at all who hears me.

  This woman is mine.

  I lose track of how long we’ve been in the room, until I hear Whitney’s stomach grumble.

  “You need food.”

  She rolls over in bed beside me, her hair mussed and cheeks pink. “I don’t want to go back to reality yet.”

  I know what she’s thinking. If we can just stay in this room, maybe we can avoid the shitstorm raging outside these walls. As much as I wish that were the case, we can’t hide for long.

  “Your cousin would be sad if you missed her wedding.”

  Whitney gives me a lopsided smile. “I guess that means we go foraging for food, and then what?”

  “Figure out what’s next.”

  I don’t have to say it, but the list of what’s next is long—find out if my mother took the fentanyl herself or whether someone else gave it to her, figure out where the hell my brother went, sort out the details of my mother’s funeral, and make sure the media stays far away from Cricket and Hunter’s wedding so that Whitney smiles on her cousin’s wedding day.

  And it will all be done.

  I hold out a hand to Whitney and help her out of the bed. As soon as the sheet drops away from her body, my dick perks up, telling me he can find a second wind.

  Whitney’s gaze drops to my cock. “Are you sure you want to leave just yet? Because I can wait to eat . . .”

  28

  Whitney

  An hour later, my grumbling belly forces us to go in search of food. I would have thought that the kitchen of the Riscoff estate was the last place I might witness a potential murder, but Lincoln and Commodore’s raised voices fill the massive space until I’m afraid my eardrums may burst.

  I back away, sandwich in hand, as they argue about Sylvia Riscoff’s funeral.

  “No service. I stand by my decision.” Commodore makes the declaration like the discussion is over, but Lincoln isn’t backing down.

  “That’s not happening. We need closure. All of us. You’re not taking that away.”

  Commodore leans back in his chair. “You really think a funeral is going to give you closure when we don’t even know if she was a junkie who killed herself or if someone killed her? Do you want to take the chance that her murderer is at the service?”

  Both Commodore and Lincoln go quiet for a beat, and that’s when I realize what they’re both missing.

  “Isn’t that why you should have a service? To try and draw her killer out, if there is one?”

  The men look at me, and Commodore’s mouth moves but no sound comes out.

  Lincoln frowns. “Whitney’s right. If there’s a chance . . .”

  “If she was murdered, then we all know the person who did it,” Commodore says. “This isn’t a detective show on TV. There will be no service until we know the truth. Besides, Harrison hasn’t made contact, and we have no way to reach him. Do you really want your brother to miss it?”

  “He wouldn’t miss it if we had a way to contact him, but you had his phone shut off immediately,” Lincoln shoots back at Commodore.

  The old man narrows his gaze. “And I’d do it again. So we wait. We put out the word that the service is being delayed until family members can travel for it, which isn’t unusual when there’s a cremation, and that’s the end of this matter.”

  Lincoln draws in a deep breath. I know he wants to argue with his grandfather, but it’s not going to do any good. The old man has a will of iron, much like his grandson, and there’s no changing his mind.

  “I know my mother wanted to be cremated, but I think you’re making a mistake, old man. But we’ll do it your way—only because Harrison would never forgive any of us if he missed it.”

  “Good. Better to focus on the wedding this weekend. We don’t need another funeral in this family right now, anyway.”

  29

  Whitney

  The morning of the rehearsal dinner dawns with a raging thunderstorm over the river. I pull up the weather forecast and pray that Cricket’s wedding day isn’t going to be ruined by weather, even though I know that would be the top of the list of things that don’t really matter in the long run. But still, for my cousin, I want everything to be perfect.

  McKinley has already cleared the guests from the tower at The Gables, and Lincoln and I are in an SUV with Commodore’s personal driver at the wheel, on our way to meet Jackie and Karma and Cricket. Or at least, I’m on my way to meet them. Lincoln will wait downstairs to give us time alone, and Asa texted and said he’ll be coming a little later.

  After not seeing my family for a few days, and after experiencing so much upheaval, I’m more eager than ever to hug them all hard. Well, Jackie and Cricket and Asa, at least.

  Something has been nagging me ever since Lincoln told me what the coroner said about his mother. I can’t stop thinking that it’s too coincidental that both she and Ricky essentially had the same cause of death. Granted, there was no heroin in Sylvia’s tox screen, and I have a hard time attributing that kind of behavior with her. But then again, addiction isn’t always obvious. People are so much better at hiding things than one would think.

  With Ricky, the autopsy results weren’t as much of a surprise. He had shot heroin with fentanyl before, which is what landed him in rehab. In Hollywood, a fentanyl overdose isn’t exactly a groundbreaking autopsy discovery, which is sad on a completely different level.

  My thoughts go back to Sylvia as Lincoln’s fingers tighten around my hand. His mother’s behavior was erratic and irrational. She had mood swings. Sometimes I thought she was actually crazy. Those were all behaviors Ricky displayed when he was using, but they also seemed like part of Sylvia’s normal personality.

  When we pull up to the gates of The Gables, I’m happy to see the number of reporters has dwindled to a few die-hards. Since I said my piece, the tone of the stories has changed, and so has the villain. Spoiler alert, it’s not me anymore. Regardless, if I never see another headline that involves me or the people I love for the rest of my life, that would be fabulous.

  As hopeful optimism blooms in my chest, we pull under the overhang and one of the valets opens the back door of the SUV.

  “Mr. Riscoff, Ms. Gable. We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

  Lincoln helps me out of the SUV and hands off my bag to a bellhop. “Take good care of her,” he says before pressing a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be down here, waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much for all of this, from me and my entire family.”

  He smiles. “McKinley’s the one you should be thanking.”

  “You can say that, but I know you’re the one who set it all in motion. I’ll never forget that, Lincoln.”

  He cups my cheek. “You still don’t get it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But don’t worry, I’ll keep showing you until you believe me.” He presses another kiss to my forehead. “Now go. Your family’s waiting.”

  I rise up on my
toes to kiss him again. “I love you, Lincoln Riscoff,” I whisper.

  His answering smile is everything I need to see as I follow the bellhop to where he’s holding the elevator door open—the same elevator I once rode in and asked Lincoln if he was taking me to the dungeon. As the gold doors slide closed, I can’t help but think it’s crazy how much has changed since that day. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like a lifetime.

  Even then, when I was pretending to hate him, I never could. I was terrified of what he might be able to do to my heart, but even that couldn’t stop me from falling in love with him again. I have no defenses when it comes to Lincoln.

  When we reach the VIP level, my gaze locks on the table where I last saw Sylvia Riscoff. She was having breakfast with Maren Higgins when Lincoln and I emerged from my room to take a helicopter to Blue House.

  Wait a goddamned second . . . Why has no one asked Maren what the hell happened?

  Or have they?

  If Sylvia wasn’t using, could someone have drugged her? Maren was right there. She had the opportunity. I don’t know about means or motive, but maybe we’re not looking at all the possibilities.

  Part of me wants to run back downstairs to tell Lincoln, but I know I need to see my cousin right now.

  “Ma’am, would you like a drink?” the bellhop asks me as I stand stock-still at the bar. “I can have anything you’d like brought to the suite.”

  His question snaps me out of my thoughts. “No. That’s fine. I’m sorry. Just absentminded today.”

  I follow him to Aunt Jackie’s room, and he knocks on the door. “Ms. Gable? Ms. Gable has arrived.”

  The door swings open, and Cricket’s bright smile greets me, quieting my overactive brain. Maren can wait. This weekend is about my cousin and her happiness.

  “You’re here! Now the party can start!” Cricket throws her arms around me and drags me into the room. “I’ve missed you so much, even though it’s only been a few days. How is it being locked in at the estate? I’ve been meaning to ask if you found any cool secret hidden rooms or moving bookshelves?”

  Of course Cricket will always be the one to make me laugh, and I’m here to return the favor. I want to see nothing but smiles on her face tonight and tomorrow.

  “No secret rooms or passageways, but I’m still looking.”

  “Snooping around the mansion. That sounds smart, Whit,” Karma says, and I look over Cricket’s shoulder to see her on the couch, braiding Addy’s hair.

  “Ignore her. I have champagne.”

  “Which you’ve had plenty of already,” Aunt Jackie says, lifting the bottle out of the ice before Cricket can grab it.

  “It’s my wedding, and if I want to show up a tiny bit tipsy for the festivities tonight, there shouldn’t be a law against that.”

  “Maybe your mom’s right,” I say. “Hold off now and have your drinks at dinner.”

  Cricket sighs. “Fine. But I still think it’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to stay here tonight and I can’t go home with Hunt. It’s not like not sleeping in the same bed for one night is going to change a damn thing about the wedding.”

  “It’s tradition,” Jackie says.

  “You never got married, Mom. I feel like your opinion doesn’t count.”

  Jackie goes quiet, and a thought hits me.

  Oh, Lord in heaven, please tell me that Jackie didn’t have a secret wedding like Renee Rango.

  Chills ripple over my skin, and I feel like someone walked over my grave.

  No. It’s not possible. Jackie would never have been so stupid as to do something like that and not tell anyone . . . right?

  I remember overhearing her when I was younger, telling my mom not to ask questions about Cricket and Karma’s dad. I always assumed it was a one-night stand and she didn’t want to talk about it.

  But what if . . .

  No. I’m not going to think about it. Not tonight.

  “Why don’t you have a glass of champagne, Whit,” Jackie says with a smile once again pasted on her face. “You look like you could use a drink.” There’s something in my aunt’s tone that I can’t place.

  Cricket whirls around. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

  Jackie walks toward her. “Of course not.” She reaches out and adjusts a tendril of Cricket’s hair. “You look beautiful, and tonight and tomorrow are all about you. It’s time to live your fairy tale, my darling girl. I’m so happy for you.”

  I sip my champagne, putting on a happy face of my own—something I have lots of practice with—as my imagination runs away with me while Cricket puts on her short white dress for the rehearsal.

  Is there something you’re not saying, Jackie? And could Maren have somehow tried to frame me for Sylvia’s death? Maybe she knew about Ricky’s overdose and . . .

  Someone knocks on the door, pulling my thoughts away from my wild theories, and I walk over to open it.

  “Asa!”

  My brother’s broad-shouldered form fills the doorway, almost completely blocking my view of McKinley Riscoff, who must have escorted him up. Asa steps inside and lifts me in one of his fabulous hugs.

  “I thought I’d have to break into the tower or scale the balconies to get to you with the security they’ve got here. Luckily, someone saved me from going to the trouble.”

  When he sets me on my feet, I peek around him to McKinley. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. We know how much it has to have inconvenienced you, and it means the world to me and my family.”

  She smiles, and her cheeks appear pink. Oh Lord, what did Asa say to her?

  “It’s not a problem at all. When you’re ready, we’ve set up the rehearsal on the covered patio, since the outdoor area we planned to use is currently being pelted with rain. All you have to do is call your majordomo, and he’ll escort you down.”

  “Thank you, McKinley. We owe you.”

  “Only you could say that with a straight face,” Karma says with a harsh laugh.

  My smile freezes as McKinley leaves the room. When she’s gone, I spin around and look over to where my cousin has finished doing her daughters’ hair. With the kids present, I can’t say what I want to say.

  Instead, I settle for, “I’m so glad we’re all on our best behavior to make Cricket’s wedding as wonderful as it can be.” I scan all the faces in the room and find Asa staring at Karma.

  He doesn’t pull any punches. “Might want to reel in that attitude before you embarrass your sister, Karma.”

  Karma rolls her eyes. “Save it. You’re barely ever here, and you don’t know shit about shit.”

  My brother’s posture stays stiff, and I’m almost worried that we’re going to have a face-off between him and my cousin.

  Jackie steps between them. “Enough, all of you. This is about Cricket. Let’s go act like we’ve got some manners and sense.”

  I scan the room and find Cricket missing. I slip into the bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as I sit beside her.

  “I’m nervous. I hate being nervous. I’m afraid I’m going to do something wrong. Or Karma’s going to say something, and then Mrs. Havalin is going to tear me apart for making her look bad.”

  I remember what Aunt Jackie said when I first got home—that Cricket needs backup against her future mother-in-law. Since I still haven’t seen her, I’ve forgotten.

  “I’ll manage Mrs. Havalin. You worry about enjoying yourself and being in love. No one is allowed to ruin this for you. No one.”

  Cricket gives me a weak smile. “I wish we would’ve eloped.”

  30

  Lincoln

  The patio where the rehearsal is supposed to take place is unusable. The best man’s flight was delayed due to weather. And now I’m bracing for whatever else might be coming next, and praying we don’t have a runaway-bride situation on our hands, because that would be about as bad as it could get.

  But this is Cricket we’re talk
ing about. She and Hunter are crazy about each other. There’s no way that could happen.

  My faith is rewarded when Cricket, Jackie, Whitney, Karma, and Asa Gable all follow a majordomo into the rehearsal area.

  Hunter strides over to Cricket. “You look beautiful,” he tells her, and a little of the stiffness disappears out of Cricket’s posture.

  Whitney stands protectively near her cousin, and I move across the room toward them as Hunter presses a kiss to his bride’s pale forehead.

  “Everything okay?” I ask Whitney quietly.

  “I hope so,” she replies, and her response doesn’t fill me with confidence.

  Hunter breaks the news about the best man to Cricket.

  “What are we going to do?” she asks, looking around the room, her lips pinched.

  “Lincoln said he’d stand in, if we don’t mind.”

  Cricket’s worried face turns my way.

  “Or you can have Asa stand in,” I tell her. “Whatever you want to do, Cricket. It’s your choice. We just want to make this as easy for you as possible.”

  Whitney squeezes my hand with approval.

  “Asa’s going to walk me down the aisle, so thank you,” Cricket says. “We’d appreciate you standing up for us tonight.”

  The wedding organizer waves us over, and I return Whitney’s squeeze, holding her hand tightly in my grip before I join Hunter.

  When it’s Whitney’s turn to walk up the aisle as maid of honor, I can’t help but think about the question I told her I’ll be asking soon.

  The ring is in the safe at the estate, and as soon as the time is right—after this wedding is finished—I’ll ask the question and slide it on her finger.

  Whitney gave up too much by letting Renee Rango bully her, and I’m not going to let anyone steal another minute of our future together. Not again.