Chapter 25 More Secrets
Serena
I thought I would die from self-loathing, but it turned out it was just my mind that hated what happened in the morning.
My body? It was craving more.
Every time I shifted under the sheets, the ache between my legs flared. A raw, insistent ache that reminded me exactly how deep Sin had gone, how Saint had held me open for him.
My nipples throbbed under the thin T-shirt I’d thrown on after the shower. I was still red and sensitive from the whip and their fingers.
I pressed my thighs together and swallowed a whimper.
I hated myself for wanting it again. Any other girl in my shoes would have fought back, and would have stopped Sin from claiming her virginity like that.
But I hadn't. I would never forgive myself for this.
The bedroom door creaked open a few inches.
Mrs. Hale poked her head through, her face grim as ever.
“The family patriarch sends for you,” she said.
There was no greeting or softness. Just the order.
I ignored her. I rolled over and pulled the blanket higher, burying my face in the pillow.
How the hell did anyone expect me to go downstairs for dinner after what happened between the twins and me?
I’d choose dancing for the pitbulls over sitting at that table tonight.
I wasn’t ready to face them, any of them.
The sheets were ripped off me in one swift yank.
I gasped, curling instinctively.
Mrs. Hale stood over the bed, the blanket bunched in her fist. Her eyes narrowed on my chest.
“What are these?” she asked sharply.
I tugged the T-shirt down fast, but it was too late.
The whip marks were vivid, thin red lines crisscrossing my breasts, faint bruising blooming around my nipples.
“They’re nothing.” I replied, hating myself for the second time.
“They look like whip lashes.” She stepped closer. “Do not lie to me.”
What was she now? My mother?
“I scratched myself in my sleep, that’s all.” I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. “I get nightmares a lot.”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“Is he abusing you?”
I lifted my head and looked at her, trying to process it. Was she suspecting something?
Her face was unreadable, but there was something underneath the sternness.
Concern? Pity? Or just the quiet judgment of someone who’d seen too much in this house?
“No,” I said automatically. Then softer: “It’s not… abuse.”
Mrs. Hale studied me for a long moment, her eyes flicking over the marks, the faint bite on my neck, the way my thighs pressed together like I was still feeling them inside me.
She exhaled through her nose.
“Get dressed,” she said finally. “Dinner is one hour from now. They’re waiting.”
“I’m not going.”
“You will.” She turned toward the door. “And if those marks are what I think they are… be careful, girl. This house eats girls like you alive.”
She left without another word. The door clicked shut.
Mrs. Hale definitely knew something. I could feel it in the way her eyes lingered on the whip marks.
I just needed the perfect moment to squeeze the truth out of her.
I rolled over and went back to sleep. Dinner could wait. The twins could wait. The entire damn family could wait.
The door burst open an hour later.
Mrs. Hale’s angry footsteps assaulted my ears without mercy.
“Stubborn girl! Get up now.” She didn’t wait for me to respond, she just yanked the covers off in one vicious pull like the first time. “We have visitors tonight, and Master Saint instructed me to give you this.”
She dumped a pink boutique bag on my stomach.
The pointed bottom nearly took out my eye.
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my face.
Did Saint order a dress as some twisted silent apology? Maybe it wasn't a dress. It could be something else.
Anyway, it was Sin who should be apologising for losing control and nearly… Fuck, I didn't want to think about it.
“What’s inside?” I muttered. “I don’t care about the visitors. I just want to be by myself. I can only stand my own company right now. Go tell them to fuck themselves.”
Mrs. Hale turned on her heel and actually started walking out.
I gaped at her back. This woman!
“Wait,” I called. “I’ll join them for dinner.”
I knew I didn’t have a real choice.
She helped me dress slowly, methodically, like she was preparing a corpse for viewing.
The gown was black, a velvet material that fits me like a glove. It was sleeveless, high-necked in front, but the back plunged so low it barely skimmed the dimples above my ass.
How did Saint even know my measurement? Perhaps he consulted the family's designer?
Mrs Hale twisted my hair into a tight updo that pulled my brows upward. I could barely look down my nose.
“Rise and wear your shoes,” she instructed.
I stood. My jaw dropped when I caught my reflection.
My full breasts were struggling for breath inside the dress, because the neckline plunged so low that the bodice was practically hugging it.
The whip marks were out for all to see.
“I’m supposed to show up for dinner dressed like this?” I asked.
Mrs. Hale met my eyes in the mirror.
Her expression was unreadable as usual. “You can go down naked, I'm sure there's still room for more scandals in the family.”
Her words were loaded. More scandals? Like there had been one or two in the past?
I stared at myself, contemplating everything. Too tired to fight or argue, I shrugged.
“You know what? Fine.”
I marched out before she could say another word.
I didn’t realize how unprepared I was until I reached the top of the stairs.
Every head turned. The dining room fell silent except for the faint clink of silverware someone dropped.
Saint sat at the head of the table, his head lifting the moment he sensed my presence.
His lips quirked up when he noted the anger in my eyes. He was toying with me.
Sin sat to his right, still, watchful, wearing the expression of the king of the underworld lording his subjects at a table.
There was a faint bruise on his jaw. I guessed it was from Saint’s earlier shove now blooming purple.
His gaze dropped to my chest, lingered, and I felt that darkness in him calling out to me. His lips moved once, but somehow, I caught it.
'Mine.'
I realised a little too late that one of the visitors, a male with a blonde, shaved hair on both sides of his scalp was watching our silent interaction. He'd read Sin's lips, too.
There was no hiding that he was suspecting something.