Page 67 of Taken By Sin
“Sin,” he says, turning to face us. His voice is deep and clipped, his sharp features betraying no warmth as his gaze shifts to me. “And this must be… her.”
I step forward, offering a polite smile and extending my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Donati.”
He looks at my hand for a moment before shaking it briefly, his grip firm but distant. “Is it?” he says, his tone making the words sound more like a challenge than a greeting.
“Dad,” Sin says, his voice firm as he steps closer to me. “Let’s skip the theatrics, okay?”
Mr. Donati’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s stubbornness,” he retorts, before gesturing toward the luxurious sofa. “Please, sit.”
Bria rushes into the room singing, “Daddy!” and tosses her arms around him. For a brief moment, a smile spreads across his lips, but it’s gone before it has a chance to lighten his mood.
What is his problem?
We take our seats, the tension in the space thick enough to cut with a knife. Sin keeps his hand on my knee, a subtle reassurance as Mr. Donati sits across from us, his piercing eyes studying me like I’m an investment he’s deciding whether or not to back. Maxwell is standing in the corner, facing us.
“So,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself. What is it you do?”
I clear my throat, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I…”—exhale—“I work at a coffee shop in the city. It’s a bookstore, too.”
“Coffee shop?” he repeats, his tone neutral but somehow still dismissive. “Interesting. And your family? What do they do?”
“They’re… not…” I say carefully, my cheeks warming. “I don’t have any.”
Sin scoffs, “Dad, stop. You already know everything about her.”
I look at him with a surprised expression. “Why did he ask?” I whisper to Sin.Was it just so he can hear how pathetic my life is?What does he expect for a woman who just left an orphanage?
“He’s testing you.” Sin’s voice sizzles with fury.
“I just like to know that people are telling the truth,” his father says, shrugging carelessly. “I imagine our world must be… a bit overwhelming for you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Sin cuts in, his voice sharp. “She’s not here to impress you, Dad. She’s my guest, and she will be treated with respect. No reason to tiptoe around bullshit.”
Mr. Donati’s gaze flicks to his son, and for a moment, something unreadable passes between them. Then he leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Sin, you know I’ve always trusted your judgment. But relationships like this…” He pauses, his eyes landing on me again. “They come with challenges.”
I stiffen, the implication clear, but before I can say anything, Sin stands abruptly, pulling me to my feet with him. “Enough,” he snaps, his voice tight. “I didn’t bring her here to be scrutinized or judged. If you can’t respect her, we’re leaving.”
I clear my throat, startled by how brash he’s being without even attempting to know me. I’ve been so welcomed by Sin, Bria, and everyone in his New York home that this sudden shift feels unsettling. But it’s not something I’m unfamiliar with. For eighteen years, I lived in a gothic mansion that was as cold and unwelcoming as I imagine hell to be. At least here, there’s a door I can walk through if I need to.
I force a smile at Sin, trying to reassure him that I’m okay. But the tick of his jaw and the way his hand tightens around mine tell me everything I need to know: he’s on the edge, barely holding it together.
The silence that follows is deafening. Mr. Donati’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he rises slowly, his gaze locking with his son’s.
A sinister smile spreads across his face. “Maybe we started on the wrong foot.”
Sin doesn’t respond, his grip on my hand firm as he leads me toward the door. My heart pounds as we walk out of the room, the weight of Mr. Donati’s disapproval trailing behind us, but Sin’s determination grounds me.
“I’m sorry, son. Let’s start fresh.”
The apology seems to work, and Sin’s shoulders relax. I would protest, because every ounce of my body is telling me to get out of here. I’m inside a lion’s den, and this lion really doesn’t like me.
“We need to talk, alone,” Sin sneers.
Bria grabs my hand gently, leading me from the room as they have a brutal stare-off. She shuts the mahogany door behind us and presses her ear against it, I follow.
Sin starts the conversation. “Non c'era motivo di comportarsi così.”
“There was no reason to act like that.” Bria translates to me in English, whispering.