Page 29 of Sinner’s Game

“The, um, call girl,” I say. “I was with Lamar. He recognized her.”

“I see.”

I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“It’s none of my business.”

“No,” he says. “It’s not.”

My stomach twists, and I feel like the biggest fool in the universe. “Right. Yeah, well…” I hold on to the rail and look down over the town, hoping he can’t see the way tears are welling in my eyes. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I don’t look at him, but I hear his sigh clear enough. “It’s okay. Really.” His hand lands softly on my shoulder, and I close my eyes, slowly and hesitantly acknowledging that this thing I’m feeling is jealousy.

I really am so screwed.

“We should probably get going.” His voice is soft. He squeezes my shoulder, then turns and heads back to the Range Rover.

I follow, then climb into my seat and wait for him to start the car. He does, but he doesn’t put it into gear. Instead, he stares forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard I can see that his knuckles are white even in the dim light coming off the dashboard.

I force myself to say nothing. After all, I’d started this by mentioning Jacey Kane in the first place. Instead, I slip my shoes off again and pull my feet up, then try to disappear into a little ball on my side of the car.

By the clock on the center console, it’s been only a minute, but it feels like an eternity has transpired when he finally speaks. “It’s about love for you, isn’t it? Or at least trust.”

I shift in my seat, as if a better view of his face will help me understand what he’s asking. It doesn’t, and I shake my head. “What is?”

“Sex,” he says. “It was the opposite of trust when that prick drugged you. The boy when you were sixteen. You had no agency at all. No control. No consent. No trust.”

My mouth has gone completely dry, and I can only nod. I want to tell him to shut up because I don’t want to talk about the rape or about how my parents were so shamed that they packed us up and moved from Laguna Cortez to San Diego or about the little girl I had to give up for adoption when I was barely seventeen. A child I never wanted, but who is part of me, even though I won’t ever get to know her.

But I don’t say anything at all. There’s something in his voice that I’ve never heard before. Something vulnerable. And I want to know where this is going.

“And that other guy. The one who broke up with you because you wanted to date him before fucking him.”

I wince at the harsh words but nod. In my experience, that’s pretty much par for the course with men.

“And we won’t even talk about the other.”

“Please don’t,” I whisper, trembling as the memories crowd around me. All that matters now is that I survived. And that it was Ronan who rescued me.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “and you don’t even know it.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit. Look at what you’ve been through, then look at what you’ve accomplished. You’re an amazing woman, Brandy, and one of the things I most admire about you is that you know what you want and what you need. The way you approach your business. How fast you’ve grown it. How well you run it.”

“Ronan…” There are tears in my eyes, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I never knew that he thought about me like that, much less that he understands me.

“And with sex—you know what you want, and you demand it. You don’t sleep around. You don’t do casual sex. You need that connection. Sex isn’t a release for you any more than it’s an escape. It’s a sacrament. It’s trust. And I think that’s great.”

I start to say something, then stop. He’s right, so what is there to say? That lately I’ve been wondering if maybe I’m wrong, and I do need the escape? I don’t even know how to voice those words.

And I certainly don’t understand why he’s telling me all this.

He draws a breath, his attention shifting from me and back to the view out the windshield. “That’s not me.” He speaks so softly I can barely make out the words.

I wait, but when he says nothing more, I have to ask. “What do you mean?”

“Brandy, I don’t date. I fuck. I don’t need that connection—honestly, I don’t want it. And sometimes the easiest way to keep up those barriers is to put money on the table.”