Thank you to Fran, Mari and Geeky. xo
A Sinner's Grace - Chapter 1
As I cross the street from the headquarters of Cullen, Masen & Associates to the club that has become my second home, I know something's different. I can't explain what it is, but I know something has changed. The humid Seattle air doesn't feel like it usually does, and the realization of this scares me. I start undoing the knot of my tie before I even reach the door of Allure.
"Mr. Cullen," the bouncer says.
I nod in greeting before walking by.
"Scotch?" Peter, the bartender, asks as soon as I sit down. He doesn't bother with trying to engage me in conversation, but I notice he's looking at me strangely.
Something is definitely weird, but I can't put my finger on it. I take my drink without tasting it, going over my day in my mind.
I called Tanya to check on her before I left the office.
The security guard gave me the keys to the private elevator, as usual.
What is it? I think to myself, running my hand over my face.
And then it comes back to me.
I rush back to the office, avoiding the annoyed drivers as I cross the street.
Emmett tries to question me as I run past him through the entrance doors. I hear his steady footsteps following me.
Deciding to ditch the elevator, I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the door I need.
As I knew it would be, the white door, that's usually locked, is ajar.
"Mr. Cullen! What's happening? Is something wrong?" Emmett asks, alert to find the danger he's paid to prevent.
I don't answer him.
"Did someone get in? Let me search the place."
He walks past me, all business, and searches the office that has been empty for the past two years. I let him get on with the protocol, knowing he won't find anything. When he's satisfied, he meets me back in the hall, calm and collected once more.
He talks about security measures while my heart beats faster with each second that passes.
Emmett's voice breaks through the haze of my memories and my constant pain. "Mr. Cullen, if I may ask, how did you know?"
I shrug and smile, hoping he doesn't notice that I can't breathe.
I don't tell him I can smell the women's perfume clinging to the air or that there's a picture frame missing from the desk.
He doesn't tell me what I already know—that she's back.
Thanks for reading.