Copyright
Warning: This contains sexual and explicit content that is not intended for those under the age of 18. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual event, locales, or person living or dead are coincidental.
Sin
Copyright © 2016
By: Torrie Robles
Editing by: Cassia Brightmore with Deliciously Wicked Editing
Services
Photograph by: Eric Battershell Photography
Cover Model: Johnny Kane
Cover Design: Torrie Robles
Acknowledgements
Content Warning
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Epilogue
Writing isn’t easy. It’s not just about getting your words down on paper; it’s about getting your story out for everyone to read. A couple of years ago when I decided to write my first book, I was clueless, I still am in most aspects of what it takes to be an author. The one thing I’ve learned above everything else is how crucial support is. Writing a book is not a one-person show, and the people you have around you is critical to the success of your book. Your story. Your baby.
I know that Sin would not be what it is without my one and only beta, Jenni. I thank my lucky stars that I took the plunge and asked her if she would like to read for me. I took the advice of my editor and reached out to her after she gave me a 3.5-star review on my last book. My editor told me I needed someone to push me, to challenge my writing and me as an author. With each book, you want to evolve. I don’t believe that I’ll ever reach my pinnacle as an author, but I have grown so much from my last book to now and I know it’s because of Jenni. I’m still new in the author world. I’m not sure what defines the ‘right’ type of relationships you should have with your betas, editors, assistants, or your fans because when I befriend someone, I do it with all of me. Jenni is more than my beta; she is one of the best women that I know. I love her wholeheartedly and I will never be able to thank her enough. I hope this is just our beginning and we will continue to make beautiful stories together. Thank you, Jenni – for everything.
I’ve been able to meet some incredible people so far along this journey. Jaime Russell, thank you for always being there for me. For letting me vent, to rant, and to rave when I needed it. Thank you for always putting my needs first above your own and helping me when I needed it. Thank you for loving my books, and my covers that I create. I cherish our friendship. I’m thankful to travel this journey with you. Our future is going be bright, sweetness.
Jennifer Lessard, thank you for believing in me. For making me laugh when I needed it. Thank you for spending your time getting my name out there and preaching to all those blogs about how great my books are. Thank you for always being there to bounce ideas off and for your countless hours combing through the internet looking for the best kind of swag. I can’t wait for the day when you’ll be by my side, attending a signing with me.
Thank you Cassia Brightmore, for taking on Sin. Your hard work in editing and promotions has helped with the success of this book. Three for three, lady. Thank you.
Thank you to all who believe in my writing and in me. You have no idea how much I love your words of encouragement. They help in making my dreams come true. Thank you for following me, reading my books and loving my words. I can’t wait for what the future holds for my career.
Due to certain content, some situations may not be suitable for all readers. Possible triggers for domestic and graphic violence are found within the story.
Please be advised.
Two lines, two blue lines. That's all the first test tells me. The second one is much more direct—simply stating ‘pregnant’. The third only sports a big ol’ happy face emoji, which I’m assuming means pregnant. If the test weren’t positive, I wonder if there would be a sad face in its place. Or maybe it would say, ‘well that was a close one’. Three tests all confirm what I’ve been afraid is true for the past three weeks.
I'm pregnant.
I'm having Tyson Redding’s baby.
A Redding heir, my child is the heir to Redding Oil.
My child has a father who beats its mother.
Two Weeks Later
“Savannah, did you hear what my mother asked you?” If he has to ask, does he think I actually did?
“Sorry.” I tuck my bleached blonde hair behind my ear and look at Meredith Redding, my boyfriend’s mother. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’ve got your head in the clouds.” Tyson, my boyfriend of four years, sneers in my direction. He's not happy that I'm not paying attention to what his mother is saying to me.
“Darling, leave her alone. I’m sure whatever is on her mind, is there for a reason. What I was asking you, Savannah, dear, is if you had time to go to the boutique and select one of the dresses I picked out for you? You know the gala is only two weeks away, and you need to make sure it fits. That way, if you find that it’s too small, then at least you have time to drop a few pounds.” Boy, did she know how to lace her venom with all kinds of honey.
I look up from my place setting and train my eyes on Meredith. I have learned over the past four years that if there is anyone I can’t show weakness to, it’s her. “I haven’t had a chance. Classes have been keeping me busy, with finals a
nd all.”
“I don't understand why you continue with all of the stress of college. Once you and Tyson marry, there won’t be any need for it.”
“We aren’t even engaged yet, ma’am.” She seems to be jumping the gun a little bit.
“Mother, let Savannah be. If she thinks, college is what’s best for her for the time being then let it rest. Savannah knows what I expect of her, now as my girlfriend, and she knows what’s expected of her as my wife. I don’t doubt that, and you shouldn’t either.” I look over as he winks at me.
“It’s important that I—” Tyson’s hand grips my thigh, his nails cutting into my skin, stopping my words from forming. Another thing to remember, never talk back to Meredith Redding. “My finals are over in two days. I’ll be sure to head to the boutique then. If there is a problem size wise, I’m sure I’ll make do.”
“Fabulous,” She smirks and takes a sip of her wine. Glancing to my right, Tyson’s father, Gerald Redding, is staring into his glass of top shelf scotch, again not acknowledging what a raging bitch his wife is.
Why have I let this family and this man continue to hurt me for the past four years? Why have I allowed myself to become their doormat?
Why?
Redding Oil has really outdone itself this year for the gala. The Annual Redding Oil’s Women’s Shelter Gala is the talk of Fort Worth. This year they staged the event at Thistle Hill, a local mansion and now part of the Historical Society. The house itself is beautiful, but the beauty of the gala is what Meredith is able to create with the yard that surrounds the house. The colors and lights, are something magical, it’s too bad that it's all for show, good cause or not.
Tyson informed me that I'm to take the town car and meet him there at seven o’clock, sharp. I guess he has things to take care of and we won’t be able to ride together. With spring in the air, the temperature is just right for the event to be held both inside the house as well as outside. Pulling up to Thistle House, the entire area is covered in twinkle lights and I blink at them in awe. Tulle in the colors of black, white and silver are strung throughout the iron fences that outline the property, surely, Meredith’s doing since normally the yard is open. People flutter about mingling, drinking, sampling the ample amount of food Meredith supplied.
Women are draped in diamonds while men sport the most expensive suits. I'd never understand why we have to dress up to actually do something good. Why make a big deal about it? Why spend thousands on clothes and jewelry when they can easily spend that money for the cause? I'm sure more money is spent on looking good than it is for the cause they’re here to support.
There has been many times when Meredith has told me that when the time is right, assuming she means when Tyson and I are married, it will be my responsibility to take over these functions. My job will be to make sure the Redding name always shines. Little does she know that for one, I don’t plan on ever marrying Tyson. And two, I would rather send out a mass email telling everyone who planned on spending thousands of dollars on their wardrobe to save it and just send that money to the cause. I'm sure the women who take up residency at these shelters don't give a flying hoot which woman wore what.
I step out of the car just in time to see Tyson walk from the middle of the chaos to me. His eyes rake over my body, appreciation present in the depths of his gaze. I can feel the heat of his stare as he continues up and hits my face. Appreciation disappears and is replaced with disgust. I thought he would admire me in this dress. That's why I picked it out; I'd hoped he would be pleased. Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right by him. He doesn’t have to verbalize that I’ve made a wrong choice, his displeasure is written all over his face.
“Hello there, Savannah baby.” He brushes his lips against my check. He won’t kiss me if I'm wearing lipstick; he says he can’t stand the taste. He doesn’t understand why I insist on wearing any at all. He tells me all the time, ‘It’s better to see your natural beauty, Savannah. Why do you insist on dulling your beauty with paint?’ I'm sure many women would be thrilled to hear their men tell them they don’t need makeup to make them beautiful, but when the words come out of Tyson’s mouth, it’s as if he’s trying to control what I do. Those words will never be a compliment coming from him.
“Hello, Tyson. Did you get everything done at the office?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
Tyson places his hand on my lower back as we ease into the crowd. A waiter passes with a tray full of champagne and Tyson grabs two, handing one to me. “No, thank you.” I say in a quiet voice. Tyson smirks, but I choose not to acknowledge it. There's no way he can know.
We continue through the night talking to business associates, family friends and attendees. Tyson lead the conversations while I stand there, by his side, just as he likes. Many of the men don’t bother to address me. But a few, those who are closer to my age, like to bring me into the conversations, occasionally. “So, Savannah, I hear you’ve recently graduated.” Douglas, one of Tyson’s friends asks me.
“Yes, I did. Top of my class too.”
“It’s just a bachelor’s in business, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, just a bachelor’s, but it’s only a step. I have plans—”
“She has plans and dreams.” Rolling his eyes, Tyson interrupts, flicking his hand, dismissing me like a tiny bug.
“Don’t they always.” Douglas laughs as he swallows his champagne. I wish he would swallow his tongue.
“As I was trying to say,” I want to get my point across.
Tyson’s fingers dig into my side. “It is nice speaking with you, Doug, but I need to get Savannah to my parents. It’s about time for me to make my speech.”
*****
“I would like to have your attention, please.” Tyson’s voice flows out over the speakers. “As you know, Redding Oil is proud of the foundations it supports, but out of them all, the Redding’s Women’s Shelter is by far the most important. We believe it’s crucial for women and children to always feel safe in their environment, in their life and sometimes, that’s not always possible. We at Redding Oil believe in fresh starts, and we honor that by providing what the Redding’s Women’s Shelter of Forth Worth needs to make the dreams of many women come true.”
I stand listening to Tyson speak. I know his parents, who are next to me, aren’t paying attention to a thing their son is saying, speaking in hushed voices to one of their many friends. He does know how to address a crowd, that’s for sure. Women are staring at him like he's the next big thing, and maybe for some, he is. He’s rich and gorgeous, but that's about it. Behind the money and the looks is a nasty human being. He’s someone that I can’t wait to get away from. My exact plan is to get a job and be able to walk away from Tyson and the Redding family for good.
I continue to sip on my sparkling water, looking around at the who’s who of Fort Worth. All these people are here for a good cause. A cause many of them will never think about again, once the doors to their luxury cars close behind them. Should it bother me? The cause is still being funded. The women still being helped. Does it matter that if I continue to walk down the same path I'm currently on, I may be in need of the same assistance? Would Tyson really allow that? His baby in a shelter? Probably not.
“Savannah!” Meredith’s voice hisses in my ear. She's staring at me, urging me with her eyes to look at Tyson. Glancing around, I realize I've caught the entire crowd's attention.
“Baby, didn’t you hear me?” He says into the microphone. I must have zoned out because I didn’t hear him, not at all. “I asked for you to come up on the stage with me.”
Why does he want me up there with him? His speech has nothing to do with me. I didn’t put one ounce of effort into this function. It is all his mother. She should be the one who is up on that stage with him, not me.
“For Christ’s sake, Savannah get your ass up there.” Meredith gives me a tiny push, causing Tyson to chuckle into the microphone.
“Isn’t she lovely, ladies
and gentlemen?” His words follow me as I walk to the stage and up the steps. He's holding his hand out for me to take, a smirk on his face. He looks happy; like he did when we first met; gazing at me as if I'd hung the moon. But of course, that was before he darkened the sun the first time he laid his hands on me.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” He takes my hand and speaks to the crowd as he keeps his eyes on me. “Many of you may not know, but this woman right here, my Savannah, has been my life for four years now.” I have no idea where he’s going with this. “She's smart, loving, and compassionate.” He steps towards me. “She's the light when I’m dark; the steady in my chaos.” He kisses me softly on the hands. “She's my past and my future.” He bends down on one knee. My eyes dart back and forth between him and the crowd. This cannot be happening. He removes a blue velvet box from his jacket pocket. Opening it, the light from above hits the diamond that sits center in the soft fabric. “Now all she has to do is say she’ll be my wife. How about it, Savannah? Will you do me the honor of becoming mine, my wife?”
My heart races and panic takes over my body. My hands start to shake. This can't be happening. I don’t want this, to be tied to him in marriage. I'm barely able to stand living under the same roof, sleeping in the same bed. Marriage is so permanent. This isn’t part of my plan. My plan is to leave, before I can’t, before he won’t let me go.
“Savannah.” He says my name in a warning tone. I look out to the crowd hearing the whispers and gasps. Women whispering in each other’s ear, the younger ones smiling up at me, watching and waiting. My eyes begin to sting, the revelation of the situation weighing heavy on my shoulders. My life, this is my life. This is what I’ve become. I can’t speak, fearing my voice will give away how much I don’t want this. Tyson’s hand begins to squeeze mine, the passion and love that was in his eyes only moments before has turned to hate and disgust. Anger.
“Answer me.” He orders through gritted teeth. “Now.” I do the only thing I can, I nod. I nod instead of saying no. Instead of getting as far away from him as I can, I agree to be his wife. I am a coward.
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