Page 8 of The Sinner's Bargain

His large, warm hands stroked my back. “What happened?”

I soaked my guilt into the soft fabric of his top. He listened without interruption. And only when I reached the part about the candle did I remember the one still clinging to my toe. I bent and scooped it up, frosting and all. The sugar bled into the crimson puddle already smeared across my palm from my own abuse.

Malcolm took my hand in his, assessing the gashes my nails had torn into my skin. He didn’t say a word when he led me to the washroom.

The candle made a faint pinging sound hitting the bottom of the trash bin. He gently dragged my hand beneath the faucet and the icing was washed down the drain with a faint, pink swirl of blood. The four new, half-moons etched into my flesh matched all the other faded scars from years of self-soothing.

“She’s wrong, you know.” He raised soft, blue eyes to my tear-stained face. “There is no one more beautiful than my sister. I can promise you that.”

I sniffed. “You have to say that. We look the same.”

“Exactly.” Carefully, he dried my fingers with a towel. “So, if you think you’re not attractive then I’m not attractive and I refuse to believe that.”

Despite the morning, I chuckled. “Fair point.”

He gave me a smirk. “Want me to spit in her favorite Chardonnay?”

I would have laughed if I hadn’t known how serious he was. “Of course not.”

“Then at least let me tell her off.” He frowned down at me. “She can’t keep treating you this way. You’re not some bastard stepchild. We were born at the same time.”

“But you were wanted. I was an unwanted surprise.” And a girl. Two things Mother hated more than crying children.

Girls.

Surprises.

“Well, after tonight, none of that is going to matter.”

I raised my eyes to his face. “What do you mean?”

The towel swaddling my hand squeezed once before he drew back. “Don’t worry about that.”

I searched eyes he refused to lock with mine and a prickle of dread wormed up my spine. “What are you doing, Malcolm? If you—”

He ignored my cautioning as he always did and straightened his shoulders. “Are you all prepared for your trip?”

The abrupt change in topic had me faltering for a moment. “Yes? Mother insisted I be prepared two months ago.”

My brother nodded slowly, methodically. “Good. I won’t be here to see you off, but we’ll say goodbye before I have to leave.”

The ruined material of his top took my abuse, crinkling beneath my fingers when I grabbed his arm. “You’re not going to be here?”

Warm palms rested on my arms and squeezed once to stop me. “I have a meeting that Father insists that I attend. But I will see you before I leave for it, okay? Trust me.”

I did trust him. I trusted him above all else. He was the center of my entire universe, yet the thought that I would be climbing into that car without a single soul to care wrenched something in my chest.

“I understand,” I whispered because it was expected.

Malcolm was in line to inherit Father’s company. Meetings and dinners and impressing new clients had become a fact of life since our eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t ask him to forego his responsibilities for me.

“Hey.” He gave my arms another gentle squeeze. “What have I always told you? I will always look after you, understand? Always. Trust me, okay?

I nodded and he pulled me close to press a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you,” I told him.

He flicked the tip of my nose, making me yelp with surprise at the unexpected attack. “Love you, too, little sis.”