She forced out a, “Yes.” She wanted it to appear like she was fine, that this was just another Monday in D.C., but inside she was drowning in a myriad of emotions. Anger, frustration, and doubt topped the list. For a woman who worked hard at tamping down her feelings, she couldn’t get a handle on any of them.
Sin led her through the center of the crowd—which parted like the Red Sea for Moses—and into his waiting sedan at the curb.
“Go,” he said to his driver before raising the privacy screen.
Evangeline’s stomach hurt and her head throbbed. She swallowed down the bile and inhaled another deep breath that did little to settle her back down.
He dragged his fingers through his windblown hair before shifting his full attention on her. “Having a busy morning, are you?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve had busier.”
His laughter made her heart skip a beat. Even as her world imploded around her, she couldn’t help but admire him. Not only was he the most striking man she’d ever laid eyes on, the public persona he’d created was a perfectly crafted illusion. He had addressed the press, but he hadn’t divulged a thing. All they saw was a man commanding the space and taking charge. A man owning everything he did and said without giving anything away.
“That video went viral so fast,” he said, “I’m surprised the media weren’t camped out at your apartment this morning.”
She groaned. “Oh, God.” As the driver pulled into a private parking lot in Georgetown, reality crashed down on her. “I need a lawyer.”
“No, you don’t,” Sin said. “You have me.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“You have a problem. I fix problems.” Sin escorted her into a private elevator that whisked them to the top floor. The doors opened to a large reception counter, the words DEVELIN & ASSOCIATES emblazoned on the back wall.
“Good morning, Mr. Develin,” said a man seated behind the desk. “You have some people waiting.”
Sin’s attention was hijacked when six men in suits stood to greet him.
Whoa, the place is packed.
“What’s this all about,” Sin asked.
One of the men stepped forward. “Mr. Develin, we’re with the Secret Service. Someone leaked a story to the press that a handful of us were hanging with sex workers while—”
“Gentlemen, that’s not my area of expertise.”
“Three of the women are dead,” said the agent. “We’ve been accused of partying in a D.C. motel, but we were on assignment. Four of us weren’t even in town when it happened.”
Sin addressed his receptionist. “Is Sanchez in?”
“Yes.” He lifted the receiver and spoke quietly. When he hung up, he nodded at Sin.
“My associate, Maria Sanchez, will be right with you.”
“Thank you,” the agent replied.
He turned to Evangeline. “Let’s talk in my office.”
The firm was buzzing with activity. Private offices lined the hallway, while the center of the floor was filled with rows of cubicles. Some of the smartly dressed associates were on their phones, while others were consulting with each other. The air hummed with electricity. Being at Develin & Associates felt like being at the epicenter of power in the nation’s capital.
Sin greeted everyone he passed. “What’s the latest?” he asked one.
“Waiting on the verdict. I should hear something this afternoon.”
“When do you fly to Greensboro?” he asked another.
“Tonight,” replied the employee.
Pausing at the break room, he asked Evangeline if she wanted something to drink.
“I’d love a vodka.”
“I have a bottle in my office.” After he grabbed a juice from the refrigerator, they continued toward the end of the hallway. Pausing at an office, he asked, “Is Jacoby here?”
“Dentist,” the woman at her desk replied.
“Two breakfasts, please,” Sin said. “Three, if you haven’t eaten.” And with that, he opened the door to the corner office and gestured for Evangeline to walk through.
Biting back a gasp, she crossed the threshold. Despite the upscale furniture, the large space was warm and inviting with rich browns, soft beiges, and muted grey walls. The wall behind his desk housed built-in bookshelves flanking a massive credenza, but it was his lustrous mahogany desk that caught her eye. The room was large enough to include a beige leather sofa flanked by two black leather chairs and two end tables. So elegant.
The floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked M Street reminded her that this was prime real estate in the heart of Georgetown.
And yet, there was still space for a conference table surrounded by four sleek, leather chairs. From his shiny mahogany desk to the expensive-looking sofa, Sinclair Develin didn’t do anything small.
He lifted a bottle of vodka and two glasses from inside the credenza and set the items on the desk. In went a generous portion of alcohol followed by orange juice. As soon as he handed her the drink, she drained half the glass.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to his conference table. She eased into a chair and he sat beside her. She tossed back another mouthful, hoping the liquor would help take the edge off.
When he turned his full attention on her, the air got sucked from her lungs. Though he appeared more at ease in his own office, the power that followed him around magnified tenfold here. He oozed confidence and his eyes burned with determination.
“Tell me what happened this morning.”
She hesitated. If she refused his help, she would be at the mercy of a team who may or may not unearth the truth. But when he shot her a smile, the floor fell out from under her. That damn smile of his did it for her every single time.
Trust him and tell him.
Sitting tall, she related the recent details that had wreaked havoc with her life. When she finished, he opened his laptop and pulled up the video.
“Ready to get to work, Evan?”
Sin wanted to pull her into his arms, stroke her back, and tell her everything was going to work out. But she was his client, not his lover. He was going to clear her name and ensure she got her job back, not lose himself in her exotic eyes and promise her the damn moon.
That’s not how things worked at Develin & Associates. He kept things above board. While he promised his clients nothing, he always delivered winning results.
Going forward, he had to treat this client like every other client, which meant he had to keep a tight lid on his emotions—something he had a hard time doing from the moment he met her.
Evangeline rose. “Thank you for rescuing me from the press. You made that look easy and, for that, I’m grateful. But I can’t afford you and I’m not sure how you can help me.”
Sin leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg at the ankle. “You told me I owed you one. This is payback. You and I are the only two who know that’s not you in the video, so let’s roll up our sleeves and prove it.”
On a sigh, she sat back down. “Birdie knows, and that woman he screwed does, too.”
“I’ll deal with Birdie.” He retrieved a remote control and tapped a button. The blinds behind him closed and he turned the laptop toward her. “Do you need me to bring in a chaperone?”