by Sadie Moss
My jaw drops open. The bluntness of his tone makes it clear he’s not bluffing or posturing. This is a hard line for him. “But… you’re dealing with me.”
“You’re different,” Beckett replies, and my mouth snaps shut. I’m not sure I want to know what he thinks is different about me.
I’m not sure I’d consider it a compliment if I did.
“Anyway,” he goes on. “I’ll get the word out. They’ll join us shortly.” He starts clearing our plates, and I follow him back into the kitchen. “Where have you been staying?”
“Um… sleeping on your couch?”
“You could’ve just crawled into bed with me,” Beckett drawls, rinsing the dishes and sticking them in the dishwasher. I can feel my face heat up, and I stoically ignore his comment. “I have a guest bedroom, you know. Several of them.”
“I worried I’d miss you leaving for work if I stayed in one of those. Or that you’d notice the sheets all rumpled.”
“Clever angel.” I know his words should feel like a compliment, but it really doesn’t. They do make my blush deepen though.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
He leans against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He changed into a new suit while I was in the shower, and he looks annoyingly good in it. “Well, since the couch is covered in your blood, feel free to stay in any of my guest bedrooms while we wait for my brothers to show their faces.”
“They’ll really come?” I ask. After being thrown so off-balance by Beckett, I’m not sure I’m prepared to meet more of the sins so soon, but I suppose it was inevitable.
He waggles his head, as if he’s considering my question. “Maybe. Or we’ll track them down. I know we’ll have to track down Sloth, at least. It’s in the name—he won’t do a thing himself if he can get others to do it for him.” The handsome sin gives me a sharp smile. “Make yourself at home regardless, angel. And if it gets too cold and lonely in the guest bedroom, you know where to find me.”
My stomach flips over like an undercooked pancake, my body clenching involuntarily.
Great.
Taking that as my cue to make a hasty exit before I embarrass myself further, I wrap the robe tighter around myself and head off toward the guest bedroom farthest from the master suite. I should probably be glad that Beckett’s so overt in his innuendos; it reminds me to be on my guard around him.
And I need to stay alert and sharp, because pretty soon it won’t be just one sin I’m dealing with.
But maybe this will all work out. Closing a portal to Hell will have to go a long way toward redeeming the sins in the eyes of Anderson and the board. Beckett’s openly admitted to doing it for selfish reasons, but still—he agreed to help. He’s going out of his way, inconveniencing himself and getting his brothers involved, all to keep corrupted from swarming Earth. That’s a good sign.
Pulling the covers back, I crawl into the large bed and wriggle on the soft mattress. I wish I didn’t have to lie to him though.
I’ve kept the outright lies to a minimum, but there are plenty of lies of omission mixed in as well. I’m not being straightforward with him, and I don’t like that. It’s not how I like to do things. I try to console myself with the knowledge that he would have no such qualms about lying to me if he were in my shoes.
That’s a concerning thought, actually. He could be lying to me right now. Playing along to lull me into a false sense of security.
And if that’s what he’s doing, then what does he want from me?
Yikes.
I might officially be in over my head.
Chapter Ten
Trinity
The next morning, Beckett is up before I am. Now that I’m no longer his invisible stalker, I don’t feel the same need to rise at the insanely early hour he always does.
By the time I get up at seven, there’s already a new couch in the living room and no sign of the old one anywhere. It’s like he did a magic trick—just waved his hand and turned a blood-stained couch into a pristine one. Except I’m sure there was no actual magic involved in this particular trick. Just money.
Even more surprising is the fact that there are also fresh clothes waiting for me. The closet is full of them, in fact, and I know they weren’t there when I went to sleep.
A strange warmth settles into my chest as I pull out a pair of jeans and a soft t-shirt. They’re exactly my size, and they’re actually much more my taste than the pantsuit I was wearing yesterday when I met Beckett for the first time. The fact that he somehow guessed that about me and took the time to have clothes delivered makes me feel weirdly… taken care of. It’s not something I would’ve ever expected from Greed.
I open one of the drawers in a large dresser and find several pairs of lacy satin panties and bras, and my eyes roll so hard they almost get stuck in the back of my head.
Right. I forgot that even charitable gestures can have purely selfish motives. It’ll probably inflate his ego to no end to know that I’m walking around in skimpy underwear he picked out for me.
But I’m not about to go commando, so I throw everything on and then head out to meet Beckett in the kitchen. We eat a hasty breakfast, sitting in silence. I’m nervous about meeting more of the sins, and Beckett seems tense too, though I can’t guess his reasons. As soon as we’re done, we head out.
“We’ll go get Remington and Phoenix first,” Beckett informs me as we get into his sleek car. “Gluttony and Sloth, in case you were wondering.”
I was wondering, actually, so I’m glad we cleared that up. “I thought you said only Sloth would be lazy enough not to just show up when you called.”
Beckett shoots me a sharp look, as if he’s surprised I remembered what he said. Then he shrugs. “Remi gets distracted by his career. You know how it is with workaholics.”
With those words, he guns the engine, and I hold on tightly as he peels the car out of the garage and onto the street.
“I know you’re the literal personification of Greed, but that doesn’t mean you need to hog the road,” I manage to hiss out through gritted teeth as I try not to throw up my breakfast. “Next time, I’m driving.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of car this is, angel?” He chuckles. “I’m not sure I should let you handle it.”
I’m about to open my mouth and tell him I can handle anything, but then I press my lips together, shaking my head. “Oh, I get it. You want me to argue with you until I demand you let me drive, because you want me to get greedy for the car. Nice try.”
Beckett looks impressed that I can figure out his game. Or at least some of his game. “Fair enough. You’re not as naive as you look.”
“I do not look naive.”
He doesn’t answer that with words, but the look he shoots me makes me embarrassingly warm. As if he knows how innocent I truly am in some regard and would take great pleasure in dismantling that innocence piece by piece.
Several terrifying minutes later, Beckett screeches to a stop in front of the valet for a very nice restaurant, and I nearly throw up. I yank the car door open, hurling myself out of the vehicle so fast I get tangled up in my seat belt.
“First time in a car, angel?” Beckett drawls, handing his keys to the bewildered valet.
I toss him a withering glare over my shoulder as I finally disentangle myself from the strap. “First time auditioning for Fury Road.”
He doesn’t get my Mad Max reference. Or maybe he does get it and just doesn’t appreciate it, which is far more likely.
Ignoring my sass, he comes around the car and takes my hand to steady me as he closes the passenger door behind me. Jerking his head toward the restaurant, he leads me inside.
This place is bustling, but in that careful, subdued way that you only get at fancy places where nobody wants to make a scene and everyone’s trying to look their best.
“Beck!” a genuinely joyful voice calls out over the low hum of voices, and Beckett stiffens.
“Do not call me that,” he says, but
it’s too late, because a guy in a chef’s outfit is already walking up and giving Beckett a huge hug.
I step back a pace, watching the whole interaction with wide eyes. To be honest, I sort of assumed that anyone who tried to hug this man would end up missing an arm, but the chef doesn’t seem concerned in the least.
“This is an Ozwald Boateng.” A muscle in Beckett’s jaw pulses as he brushes his hands over his suit jacket, checking it for stains as the other man steps back. I have no idea who this Ozwald guy is, but I’m guessing he designed that expensive suit Greed is wearing.
“Lighten up, Beck,” the guy—who must be Remington—replies. He’s got a soft, crooked grin, reddish-brown hair kept short, and warm green eyes.
Wow. This is Greed’s brother?
He doesn’t look anything like Beckett. He also doesn’t behave anything like Beckett. He seems so laid back, while the man beside me is all dominating alpha male.
Beckett blows a sharp breath through his nostrils, which I think is his version of sighing. “Trinity, this is my brother, Remington. Remington, this is Trinity. She is… in need of assistance, and we came to talk to you about it.”
“Hey, sure thing. Let me set you up with a table, okay? You look starving.” With that, Remington immediately gives me a hug.
It’s a good hug too, the kind of hug that makes you feel like you’ve come home and you can relax now. I wouldn’t expect that kind of warmth from one of the sins, and my body melts into it before I can stop myself.
When he pulls away, I feel a little lightheaded.
“Are you sure he’s actually a sin?” I whisper to Beckett as his brother leads us to a table near the kitchen.
“Everyone says that.” The dark-haired man rolls his eyes, sounding both amused and annoyed. “Remington, please stop charming her. I saw her first.”
“Ah, Beck hasn’t gotten used to the fact that if you want people to like you, you have to be nice to them,” Remington replies without missing a beat. He pulls my chair out for me, and I sit down. “Seriously, has he been feeding you?”
“I feed her fine,” Beckett shoots back as he takes a seat beside me. Annoyance still lurks in his tone, but there’s no real bite to his words. He doesn’t seem genuinely angry, and I wonder if this is something he and Remington do all the time.
They are brothers, after all. Don’t brothers give each other a hard time?
Once the two of us are settled, Remington disappears into the kitchen. Within minutes, we’re being served absolutely delicious food by waiters dressed in tuxedos.
“I don’t get it,” I say, as I start to dig in. Oh, wow. If I thought last night’s meal was the best thing I’d ever eaten, it was nothing compared to this. I’m practically salivating as I try not to stuff my mouth full. I want to savor this. Who knows when I’ll get to eat food this good ever again? “I expected Gluttony to be…”
“Overweight?” Beckett looks amused. “Yes. Just as I’m sure you expected me to sleep on a pile of gold every night. We’re not stereotypes, angel. We embody the idea of whatever sin we are. And if I did sleep on a pile of gold, do you think people would be so quick to do as I told them, to follow me in pursuing their greed? True sin doesn’t come with a neon sign. It’s subtle. That’s how you hook people.”
“Huh. That’s not paranoia-inducing at all.”
Beckett chuckles. We finish the first course, and another is brought to us.
“Look,” he tells me in a low voice. “People have started wars over Remington’s cooking. He’s poisoned world leaders and led kings to fall down a rabbit hole of feasting and thinking of nothing else. He’s caused nations to fall. Just look at the bickering and backstabbing he causes in the culinary world today—although you might not be aware of that if you’re not in those circles.”
I shake my head. I didn’t even know there were culinary circles. My understanding of fine cuisine extends only as far as “liked it” and “didn’t like it.”
Beckett dips his chin. “Remi represents the desire to live a good life at the expense of making hard choices and doing hard things. He makes you want to over-indulge in the things that feel good so you forget the things that don’t. So you can ignore the difficult things you should be doing. Just like I make people hunger for more. For better.” He shrugs.
“But he’s a good person too,” I argue, and in that moment, I believe it. I feel like I can taste it in the food I’m eating. The warmth, the sense of home, the feeling of belonging. It’s like I’m learning who Remington is by eating this meal that he’s prepared.
Beckett arches an eyebrow at me. “You taste what you want to taste; what you want to indulge in.”
I pause.
Remington’s food… tastes like home.
What is home, to me? It’s the place I can’t go. The place I was banished from. The place I’m trying to get back to. I’m lying and manipulating these sins so I can achieve that. Remington’s food tastes of what I want more than anything.
Well, then.
“Ever since you started eating, what have you been talking about? Remington. About how great he is.” Beckett nods at the servers as they deliver us another course. “What about that whole demon portal you were so eager to get help with just a short bit ago? You know, the one you were so determined to stop yesterday that you were going to march out by yourself while injured to make it happen?”
My jaw drops, probably giving Beckett a very unappetizing view of the half-chewed food in my mouth.
Oh, no.
I completely forgot about that.
I forgot about everything. I was so focused on getting more of the delicious flavor, the feeling of home, that everything else faded from my mind.
I quickly shove the plate of food away. Beckett laughs and pulls it toward him instead, digging in.
“What does it taste like to you?” I ask.
His eyes darken. For a moment, I see real anger and pain in his green irises before he snaps back to normal. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, is it, angel?”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I remind myself for the dozenth time that there’s so much I don’t know about these men. There’s certainly more to Beckett than I thought.
“How are you guys enjoying the food?” Remington asks, walking back up and breaking the tense moment that hovers between us. He’s all congenial smiles, and I hate the fact that he looks, sounds, even smells like home. I know it’s just a trick, the power of his sin working its magic, but he’s gotten under my skin—and I don’t know how to undo that.
“It’s delicious, as always,” Beckett says like he’s at the head of the table in a boardroom. “Sit for a minute. We need to talk.”
“About what? Is it one of the others?” Remington sounds immediately concerned. He slides into the seat on my other side, meeting my gaze. “Are you here about one of my brothers?”
“They’re all fine. As far as I know.” Beckett adds the last bit almost as an afterthought.
“Geez, Beck.” Gluttony shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Give a guy a heart attack. Maybe lead with that next time?”
“It’s not my fault if you jump to the wrong conclusions.”
“Given our history? You can’t blame me.” Remington shoots me an apologetic smile, and I find myself smiling back. No, stop it. Bad Trinity! “Sorry about us. Siblings, you know?”
I nod, even though I don’t know. I suppose technically the others who used to work with me Upstairs are my “siblings,” but we never acted like it. Not like these men do. We acted more like coworkers. Fellow employees.
“I don’t know if you happened to notice anything unusual last night, seeing as you’re married to your kitchen.” Beckett raises an eyebrow. “But a sinkhole to Below has opened up right here in the city.”
The other sin blinks a few times. “Are… you’re serious? A sinkhole to—” He stops and looks at me. “Um. I’m assuming you’re not a normal human if he’s saying this kind of thing in front of
you.”
“She’s an angel,” Beckett says with his usual flair for being bluntly honest in the most annoying way possible.
Remington’s mouth falls open. He looks me up and down, seeming a little in awe, then smiles. “I haven’t seen an angel in millennia. Wow.” He frowns. “He didn’t sleep with you, did he? I’m so sorry if he did.”
“Are you insulting my skills in the bedroom?” Beckett sounds highly offended.
“More your interpersonal skills. But we’re working on those.” Remington says this last bit to me very seriously, like he is in fact having a once a week meeting with Beckett on how to be a nicer person to his one-night stands.
I swallow hard and then clear my throat, my entire mouth suddenly going bone-dry.
“Um… we haven’t… no. Uh, we—I sealed up the portal for now but it won’t last, my seal I mean, and we have to find a way to close it permanently. Beckett said he needed backup? And that he would get you guys to help him?”
Remington takes my hand and squeezes it, and he does look extremely soft and sincere. I feel relaxed around him, even though I know I shouldn’t. “Wow. Beckett offered all that, did he?” He beams proudly at the man on my opposite side. “I told you a little friendliness wouldn’t hurt.”
Beckett rolls his eyes. “You’re my brother. Not my fucking therapist.”
“You’re right. Therapists get paid.” Remington looks back at me, pulling a face. “But I’m afraid I can’t just fling myself at a horde of demons, even for a lovely angel like yourself. So how about we make a fair trade? I’ll help you out, and you’ll owe me a favor.”
“She’s fallen, Remi. She can’t get you anything from Above.”
“Not right now, maybe, but the fallen can redeem themselves. I’m sure stopping a bunch of demons from terrorizing New York will get you major points with Above. And you’d love to get back home. So really, everyone wins, don’t they?”
Remington sounds like he truly wants to help me, like his heart is in the right place.
I can’t tell if it’s real or just a part of his sinful charm.
