Sacred Sins Read online

  Sacred Sins

  Sin Duet #1

  CD Reiss

  Sacred Sins

  CD Reiss

  The Sin Duet - Book Two

  © 2018 Flip City Media Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  If any person or event in this book seems too real to be true, it’s luck, happy coincidence, or wish-fulfillment.

  Contents

  A Word

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  I. BEG

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  Also by CD Reiss

  A Word

  Sacred Sins is a Drazen book.

  I tried to design this series to be discrete from the rest of the Drazen canon, so that you wouldn’t have to read any other of the series to enjoy this. That’s why it took so long. In order to even begin, I had to accept that I may fail at that.

  If you have not read at least some of the canon (Forbidden, Corruption, Submission) you’ll find parts of Sacred Sins point at complex events. You may feel as if you skipped a chapter or missed something. You haven’t. If you can stand to “just go with it,” then please do. You’ll be fine and you can catch up to the rest of the siblings at your leisure. Except Carrie and Leanne. Nobody has those books. They’re in my head.

  If you’ve read some of the canon, the same will be true, but to a lesser degree.

  If you’ve read them all, you’re going to wonder what’s happening with Theresa during the 2015 section. Goddess, I could not put that in past a breezy mention. The challenge of dovetailing Theresa and Antonio’s story is what held this book up so long. Only when I released myself from the chore of lacing that series in was I able to write the last of Margie’s story.

  I hope you can forgive me for the shortcomings in my craft that led to these decisions.

  1

  NEW YORK - 1999

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I should have been startled when he spoke. The law office was dead quiet. But I’d known he was there before his voice was even in range. I had a way of knowing when he was near me.

  “Not for a few days.” I dropped my pen as if it had always been hot and I was finally sick of the temperature. “Don’t rush me.”

  Drew leaned over me and kissed my forehead. I reached around his neck and pulled him down to me. I was entitled to a good, long Christmas kiss. No deposition in the world was going to deprive me of his lips.

  “Beer,” I said before kissing him again, tasting his tongue.

  “I just had a few.”

  “You had two. I’m getting something artisanal past the Heineken.”

  He gave me his entire mouth, daring me to get every last flicker of flavor. I had it just as he yanked away.

  “I’m going to take you right on the table if you don’t stop.”

  “I was locating the bar you went to.”

  He smirked and dropped into one of the mesh ergonomic chairs. His cuffs were rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and forearms rippled with muscle from weekends and late nights playing guitar. He worked three blocks to the west at a small, quiet firm that had three big, needy clients.

  “I went to Madigan’s.” He flicked away a few pages of a deposition and rested his elbow on a clean rhombus of conference table. When I stayed late in the office, I kept the light low and directed at my work. It helped me concentrate.

  “I know.” I slipped my right foot out of my shoe and put it on his lap. He caressed it. “And you were with Jaewoo, who made you try what he ordered…” I scrunched my face, trying to pinpoint the sharp, seasonal flavor at the back of his mouth. Sweet honey and cinnamon. “Glögg? Are they doing Glögg?”

  “Of course they are.”

  I slid down my chair so my heel could press the hardening flesh between his legs. “Jaewoo’s such an effete little Bohemian.”

  Jaewoo, one of two of Drew’s bandmates, was in his twenties and treated his parents like ATMs. The only way a musician could do experimental instrumental soundscapes in dark clubs and tiny venues was if they had generous parents, a trust fund, or a career in law.

  “He wants us to tour this spring.” Drew didn’t look at me when he said it. He considered the slopes of my foot as if he wanted to sculpt them. He was a fool if he thought that would distract me.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Come on.”

  “You want me to come? That’s sweet.”

  He finally looked at me, blue eyes dark in the night. The windows rattled against the winter wind. I wasn’t going anywhere, and unfortunately, he wasn’t either.

  “I want you to come, and you will.” He pulled my foot aside, spreading my legs and sliding me to the edge of the chair. “Right in this office.”

  In the wet heat of the moment, it seemed like a perfectly fine idea.

  “No,” I gasped. “Home.”

  “Losing your nerve? There’s no one here.”

  I gripped the arm rests and pulled my butt to the back of the chair. “It’s not my nerves I’m worried about. I don’t want to lose another job.”

  He leaned back, letting me stand and organize my stacks. He knew I could afford to lose another ten jobs, but he respected my need to work. I loved practicing law. Loved fixing problems, putting pieces together, arguing, breaking a story down to get to the root of it. But the fact that I didn’t need to work meant I didn’t do well with authority. My mouth had gotten me in trouble more than once. I couldn’t stand bullshit and didn’t suffer fools easily. I could have started my own firm, but not in New York. My connections were in Los Angeles, and my love had made it clear we were not moving back to LA.

  Drew got behind me, pressing his erection to my lower back and his lips to the back of my neck.

  “You should tour,” I said, trying to concentrate on putting my work away while he pushed against me. “You’re a great lawyer but—”

  “I’m an adequate lawyer.”

  “You were meant to play music.”

  “I am playing music.”

  “You’re holding yourself back.” I put the last of my files in my briefcase. His hands found my breasts and made it hard to decide if I had everything I needed to take home.

  “I am. From fucking you. Right here. Now.”

  Drew was a deft subject-changer, and he usually did it after he’d aroused me into bad decisions or when I was doing ten things at once.

  He reached around me, laid his hands on the lid of my briefcase, and closed it. His breath was warm on my neck. His lips traced a line
from my jaw to my jacket.

  “Don’t keep me up all night,” I said. “We have to get up in the morning.”

  “Early,” he whispered. “Before your mother calls and turns our tickets to Greece into a guilt trip.”

  “Dead early. With the birds.”

  “With Santa.”

  “Speaking of…” I said, opening my briefcase and plucking out a credit-card-sized black box. When I turned, he kissed me, pressing the box between us. “You’re going to mess up my bow.” I tapped the corner on his chin. “Merry Christmas.”

  He took it. “I thought we were waiting until we got there.”

  “This is time sensitive.”

  He pulled the red bow apart and draped the ribbon over my shoulder before wiggling off the top.

  “Oh, honey!” He tipped the box so I could see what I knew was there. A packet of birth control pills. “It’s what I’ve always wanted!”

  “They’ll make you cranky the third week.”

  “I’m well aware.” He put the box on the desk and his arms around my waist. “Why do I want these again?”

  “I was wondering if you’d hang on to them since I’d like to not take them.”

  “You’d…” He drifted off as if his attention to my expression made sentences obsolete.

  “Let’s do the thing.”

  “Really?” Suppressed joy made his mouth twitch with a smile and his fingers curl and straighten at my back.

  “Jonathan’s sixteen. He’s a man. What’s done is done.”

  “Really?” He repeated as if he couldn’t believe it.

  “Yeah. Really. I need to move on and make a kid I can raise.”

  “Before we’re married? Man, your parents are going to have a collective coronary and I’m going to love it.”

  I laughed, because I could. I’d cleared my desk, gotten my ducks in a row, put out the fires. Name the cliché, I had nothing on my docket but Christmas in Mykonos.

  * * *

  Two things consistently improved over the years: wine and compound interest. Everything else had a way of dying off, souring, or inspiring complacency. A state of gratitude was exhausting to maintain. Yesterday’s blessings were today’s entitlements.

  I knew Drew and I would get there some day. But not yet.

  Not yet.

  We huddled together under the covers, smelling of sex and satiation. His breathing got shallower and slower. The wind on the thin windows was high-pitched.

  We rented a two-bedroom on 82nd Street and Second Avenue.

  I liked being away from my family, and he loved the thrum of the city as much as he loved me. We’d talked about getting married, then never got around to it. Late at night, after a few beers, he’d tell me that he didn’t want to see my father walking me down the aisle. His mother had passed, and he didn’t know how he’d dance with my mother without slipping the secret.

  We had everything we needed, and soon we’d have a non-toxic family of our own. A family that wasn’t radioactive to him.

  We were packed and ready for the flight. Our first Christmas away from the Drazens. Just him and me on a Grecian island. His guitar leaned against our bags. He’d play on the beach, making up songs as he went. Some would be silly. Some would be serious. All of them would get me flat on my back.

  I couldn’t sleep. I was waiting for the call that would preempt the trip. Family or work. One would keep me home, one wouldn’t.

  Sleep was the luxury only an unoccupied mind could afford. Mine couldn’t run in twenty directions and empty out at the same time. It was like shampoo and conditioner. The two could pretend to coexist in the same bottle, but in the end, one canceled out the other.

  The alarm screeched at 5:20. Drew flicked on the light, bathing us in warm yellow light. His body was still toned and gorgeous. He kept his ink fresh, and the casual playing he did kept his arms roped and strong. He put his eyes on me, grazing over my body from knees to throat as if he wanted to dress me in desire.

  “God…” He shook his head.

  “Why are you taking the Lord’s name in vain this time?”

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Flattery’s not getting you laid.” I tapped my wrist.

  He laughed, looking out the window into the winter sky. “You get more beautiful every day, and I just get older.”

  He wasn’t much older than I was, but the march of years was hitting him hard.

  “You could be a rock star and meet a bunch of groupie girls.”

  “Been there. Met a great one in Malibu this one time..”

  “You could travel across the country.” I straddled him. “A lone guitar-string cowboy.”

  He held out his hands and I took them, leveraging myself against him. “More like twelve guys farting on a bus.”

  “You’ll be happy and realize you don’t need me.”

  I was joking. There wasn’t a pretty young girl in the world who made me feel insecure or threatened. Drew was mine. I was his. Neither time nor distance could change that. But his expression changed, and I knew he didn’t take it as a joke.

  “That won’t happen,” he said, serious as a death in the family.

  “I know. I was joking. You need me.” I got up and gathered my clothes.

  He propped himself on his elbows, watching me.

  “Come on, lazy-ass.” I put my foot in a pant leg. “Get up.”

  “You know how it’ll go? If I give up law?”

  Gloriously naked, he stood and kissed me as if he knew I’d never leave him, because I wouldn’t. I loved him more than my own life. I loved his insecurity and his power. Loved his past and future. His fluid mind and hard body.

  “You’ll take me on tour so I can look at all your contracts and suck your dick before you go onstage?”

  Mentioning a blow job had a predictable effect on his body, and my knees got too weak to hold me. I got on them.

  He tapped his wrist. “We have a flight.”

  I ran my cheek over his hardening cock. “I frontloaded fifteen minutes into the schedule for unexpected events.”

  The house phone rang.

  “Oh, you’re joking,” he groaned.

  “Leave it.” I ran my tongue along his shaft, and he gripped a fistful of my hair. I licked off the taste of the previous night.

  The ringing wouldn’t stop. Then my cell phone buzzed on the night table.

  “It’s five thirty,” he said before making an ahh as I took him down my throat. “It’s two thirty on the west coast.”

  “Are you saying that means it can’t be my family?” I took him again.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  The ringing was incessant. Demanding. Non-stop. When his phone sprang to life, we gave up and answered.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  2

  LOS ANGELES

  “I got us another flight out to Greece on Monday,” I said to Drew while holding the phone to my ear. We were outside LAX, waiting for the limo, standing next to a cart of bags stuffed with bathing suits and flip-flops.

  He nodded. I’d offered him an out, but he’d been resigned to changing our plans from what we wanted to what he dreaded.

  “Thank you for coming,” Mom said through the phone.

  “Only a couple of days, Mom.”

  “Fiona will die in a mental institution,” she continued. “They can lock her up for years. She needs a big sister.”

  Fiona had three big sisters, but Carrie was away and Sheila was working with the family lawyers.

  “No problem,” I lied. “We’re checking into a hotel then I’ll be there. Give me a few hours.”

  I hung up with my mother as Drew spotted the family’s driver.

  “Any news on what happened?” he asked as the limo pulled up to us.

  “Fiona stabbed her boyfriend, lost her shit, wound up in a mental ward.”

  “Nothing good comes from having that much money.”

  Did I resent Fiona for getting herself
into trouble hours before Drew and I were going to start our first holiday away from my family? Take our first crack at starting our own brood?

  I had every reason to resent being rerouted, but I didn’t. Helping was my duty, not an obligation. When I got calls from Los Angeles, I was filled with a sense of purpose. Yes, it was self-defeating and strange. I hid the feeling from Drew, but I couldn’t hide it from myself.

  The driver got out before the car was in park, as if he needed to save milliseconds of my inconvenience.

  “Who’s representing her?” Drew asked as we crouched into the back seat.

  “My father has Smithson & Klein.”

  “Corporate sharks.”

  “I know. Heartless predators representing my crazy, drugged, promiscuous, and sensitive sister.”

  “You’re going to have to step in.” He took my hand in resignation. He knew the reality, but he didn’t like it. I squeezed his hand, apologizing for the vacation I was about to ruin.

  * * *

  Drew and I began surrounded by sound. The rhythmic pounding of waves on the shore, the grind of guitar strings, the laughter of early adulthood.

  Five years later, with enough history between us to fill a century of almanacs, what I treasured most about our time together was silence. Inside it was acceptance. If he didn’t like what I needed to do or how I was treating myself, he’d say so. I trusted him that much. He’d never let me do wrong to myself.