Scandalous (Sinners of Saint #3) by L.J. Shen

Author:L.J. Shen [Shen, L.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Sinners of Saint
Publisher: L.J. Shen
Published: 2017-09-20T18:30:00+00:00

SEVEN DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE the mail room incident. A whole week without Trent’s hands on my waist, spreading my legs, twisting my hair, claiming my body in ways I hadn’t known were even possible. After that Monday, I’d spent all Tuesday with Camila and Luna. Jordan seemed content with this arrangement, immediately reading between the lines and wanting in on the conspiracy. We girls went shopping for clothes for Luna, and even though Camila cringed at the girl’s tomboy tendencies, I was actually pretty impressed with Luna’s individualism and encouraged her to try on the silver Converse she eyed with a smile or those little black jeans that were ripped at the knees. Trent couldn’t meet us, not even for lunch, because he was in meetings all day out of the office. The thought of waltzing into his office after I came back from my time with Camila and Luna occurred to me, but I dropped the idea, knowing for a fact now that he had cameras around the place. And it wasn’t just that—it was also the guilt. The nagging, awful guilt that told me there should be a separation between when I hung out with his beautiful daughter and when I let him finger me until I reached ecstasy…to when I stole from him, handing my findings to my father.

The week had dragged. Trent hadn’t said a word to me—not even good morning when he passed me in the hallway. He ignored me completely, making it a point to act like I wasn’t there.

Mom hadn’t left her bed more than twice, including over the weekend. I had to cook and bring her meals to her upstairs. We hadn’t had a cook for years because Mom had once accused one of trying to poison her. And from there onward, we’d decided there was no point. Jordan ate out, Mom was usually in bed all day—and barely ate—and I wasn’t a picky eater. I tried to get her to see Dr. Knaus, but she rejected the idea again and again, until I had to call my father and beg him to reason with her. He barked at me that he didn’t have time for her dramatics and that he was on his way to LAX, catching another flight, this time to London.

My car was still in the shop. The mechanic said I needed to replace the cylinder, and when I asked him for the price, I almost fainted. I couldn’t pay it, not that month, so I just asked if he could keep the car until I got my paycheck. All the money Trent had given me had gone to where it was supposed to, after all. And I never took anything from my parents—not their money, not their cars, not their love, mostly because those things were never offered.

On the flip side, my father wasn’t around, so I could come to work at nine a.m. like a sane person, which gave me surfing time again.

I was lying flat

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