The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers Book 1) by Heather C. Leigh
My lips trembled and tears poured down my cheeks. Rocco can say he won’t be angry, promise he won’t attack the father, but the second I Seb’s name leaves my lips, Rocco would lose his ever-loving mind. Any scraps of sanity he possessed would burn to ash and disappear faster than my dignity.
It took me a bit to calm down enough to speak. When I finally did, my voice was choked up. I was truly scared to tell him. “Y-you’re going to be s-so m-mad at me.”
The feet of Rocco’s chair scraped on the floor as he turned to face me. He reached out and clasped both of my hands and brought them to his chest. “You're family, Ky. I love you. Just tell me who it is. Whatever happens, we can work it out.”
“I—”
The doorbell rang, followed immediately by loud pounding that rattled the front door. I exhaled.
Saved by the bell. Literally.
Perma-scowl in place, Rocco pushed to his feet and huffed. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded. While Rocco answered the door, I took the opportunity to duck into the nearby half-bath to attempt to clean up and blow my nose. Naturally, because everything in my life seemed to turn to shit lately, I was splashing water on my face when the shouting began.
Towel partially blocking my vision as I dried my face, I hurried toward the commotion. There was a loud crash followed by a dull thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor. I dropped the towel and sprinted for the foyer. The sight that greeted me was so shocking, when I skidded to a stop I slipped on the hardwoods. My arms pinwheeled to keep my balance and my fingers scrabbled for purchase. By sheer luck I grabbed hold of a bookcase and kept from wiping out. Barely.
The teeny, tiny amount of energy I expended to get to the foyer in no way accounted for the galloping of my heart. No, that was entirely the fault of Sebastien St. Clair, in the flesh, standing in my home. Scratch the standing part. Seb was on the floor, his limbs sprawled every which way. Blood gushed from a split lip and one of Seb’s eyes was well on its way to swelling shut. Rocco towered over Seb like an avenging angel, arm pulled back, fist balled up, about to land another blow.
“Rocco, no!” Without thinking, I ran and slid between Rocco and the father of my child. Jerk or not, I didn’t want Seb to get hurt. A ham-sized fist flew at my head. Fortunately, Rocco had time to pull his punch. He snarled and gnashed his teeth.
“Kylie, get out of my goddamn way.”
I shivered. Rocco sounded so cruel my pulse skittered. I steeled my nerves and held my ground.
“No.” I hid my trembling hands behind my back.
“Kylie,” Seb said from the floor behind me. “Don’t put yourself in danger. Especially not in your… uh, condition.”
I whipped around to face Seb, whose eyes immediately landed on my midsection. My face and neck burned with shame. I crossed my arms to cover the tiny baby bump and sniffed back a sob.
“What?” I croaked.
“Fuck you, St. Clair!” Rocco bellowed so loud I startled, yet I couldn't tear my gaze from Seb. “She's not the one in danger. I would never hurt my sister! Not like you, you sick son of a bitch!”
The tension grew so thick, I could taste it on my tongue. Rocco was a lit stick of dynamite, fuse shrinking, time to detonation counting down.
Seb growled and used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his lip, which only served to smear it around. He climbed to his feet and flicked his bright blue eyes over my shoulder to stare daggers at Rocco.
“Fuck you, Sasquatch.” Seb’s lips curled back. Blood filled his mouth, and his sneer looked positively gruesome. “I would never fucking hurt her.”
“You already did, you motherfucker! I'm going to kill you for screwing my sister and leaving her like this.” Rocco let out a dark laugh that sent chills down my arms. I turned to my brother. He was literally shaking with rage. “I should've fucking known it was you, St. Clair. You’re the only one I know who would do anything to get under my skin, even sinking so low as to pull my sister into your twisted mind-fuck games.”
There was a fraction of a second’s warning when Rocco’s muscles tensed, then he lunged. Caught in the middle, I cried out. The rest went down so fast everything blurred together. Seb grabbed my arm and shoved me behind his body. That precious moment he used to get me out of the way cost him dearly. I regained my bearings just in time to see Rocco's huge fist connect with Seb's jaw. Seb’s head snapped back forefully.
“Rocco! Stop.” I tried to get between the two men. They glowered at each other, nostrils flaring like two bulls ready to charge. Seb threw out an arm to block me.
“Kylie, don’t. I’m not going to let you get hurt. Enfant de chienne. If this trou de cul,” Seb growled what I thought were insults in French as he gestured at Rocco, who responded by raising his fists. Rocco’s knuckles were bruised and bloodied. “If he would stop acting like un Néandertal for two fucking seconds so I can explain, instead of attacking me.”
Rocco's gaze went black and, for the first time in my life, I was afraid of my brother. He looked positively murderous.
“It doesn't matter what you have to say, St. Clair. I'm still going to beat the living shit out of you. You'll be lucky if you can walk out of here when I'm done, because I have every intention of breaking both of your legs.” Rocco’s deliberate and chilling delivery didn’t shore up my confidence that he wouldn’t do exactly that.
The amount of testosterone that swirled in the air grew thick so I almost gagged. Their macho posturing and tendency to resolve things with savagery had me stressed out beyond belief. It was overwhelming. I wouldn't stand there and watch my brother, who I loved, fight Seb, who I also loved. Plus, I was furious. With Rocco for acting like I was some frail maiden whose virtue required defending, and with Seb for being kissing that woman in the parking lot. Add in the yelling, the blood, and my whacked-out pregnancy hormones, and I was done. Finished. They could kill each other for all I cared, I just knew I had to get out of there, as far as possible from their hyper-masculine fog. Of course, it was the dead of winter and I wasn't currently wearing shoes or a coat. My initial plan of storming out the front door wouldn’t work. I turned to my only other available option and took off down the hall, locked myself in my room, flung myself on the bed, and burst into tears. Mature, I know, but like I said… pregnancy hormones.
Over my hitched sobs I heard raised voices as the men continued to go back and forth. Idiots. At least there were no sounds of fists landing on bodies or grunts of blows absorbed. The shouts grew louder and louder until I realized those morons were headed for my bedroom, still arguing. I wanted to scream into my pillow. I wasn’t fragile, but I was in no shape to deal with two stubborn alpha males as they butt heads and fought over me like rabid dogs over a lamb shank.
I flipped to my back and winced. My whole body ached, the exhaustion so all-consuming even my toes hurt. Right outside the bedroom door, their squabbling increased in volume and a scuffle broke out. Someone or something slammed into the door hard enough to make the frame shake. More yelling, more scuffling, more thumping against the door, and I snapped. I had reached my limit with them and their tendency to resort to playground rules to resolve their issues. The shroud of misery and despair receded like the outgoing tide, replaced by a tsunami of white-hot anger.
Molars grinding, I launched off the bed and stomped over to the door. My timing couldn't have been worse. I twisted the lock and flung open the door as Rocco threw Sebastien against it. Instead of coming in contact with the slab of wood as expected, Seb met empty space where the door used to be. His eyes bugged out and his arms whirled as he soared through the air and crash-landed in a heap on my bedroom floor. I gaped at Seb. He was bloodied and bruised, but his arms and legs appeared functional.
Yes, I was still mad at him for being an ass, but seeing him injured while Rocco—who sported several scrapes and bruises of his own—seethed and his enormous body filled the doorway, the object of my fury changed. Rocco better batten down the hatches. He was abo
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” I shouted as I got in Rocco’s face. Rocco jerked back, surprised by my outburst, and his enraged expression faltered for a brief moment before the furious scowl returned.
“I’m showing fuck-nuts here what happens when you disrespect my sister.” Rocco pointed at Seb.
A demon must've possessed me or something, because size differential be damned. I slapped my palms against Rocco's massive pecs and gave him a mighty shove. Okay, so he didn't budge, but I like to think I got my point across. Rocco looked at me as if he had no idea who I was.
That made two of us.
“It's none of your damn business what Seb did or didn't do to me, with me, or for me!” Without laying a finger on him, Rocco staggered back as if I ninja-kicked him in the gonads. His mouth opened, but I didn’t want to hear whatever bullshit was about to spew forth. “No,” I said as I slashed my hand through the air. “You’re not a part of this.” I gestured between Seb—who sat on the floor, as stunned as Rocco—and myself. “If the two of us have something we need to resolve, it won't include you.” I had steadily pushed on his chest, maneuvering Rocco into the hall without him noticing.
“He only did this to you to get back at me, Ky. Can't you see that?”
“Fuck you, Calloway!” Seb shouted from my room. “I didn't even know who she was until I saw your phone last night, you fucking Yeti.”
I twisted around and glared at Seb, who looked appropriately chagrined. He slammed his mouth shut so hard his teeth clacked. Satisfied Seb would behave while I took care of my brother, I turned back to Rocco.
“Whatever he did or didn't do,” I continued, “is between the two of us. Now, I get that you don't respect him, and that’s your choice. You don't have to. But so help me Rocco, you will damn well respect me. That means leaving us alone while we talk.”
Stubborn as always, Rocco started to open his pie hole, again. My response was to slam the door in his stupid face and twist the lock. The doorknob rattled and Rocco thumped on the door. My hackles were so high they could probably see them from the International Space Station.
“If you don't go away right now, Rocco, I swear on our parents’ grave I will pack my shit and leave.”
Those were the magic words that took the wind right out of my brother’s sails. I knew I won. “Fine,” Rocco growled through the slab of wood. “But you yell if you need me and I’ll be right here.”
Once he left, I exhaled and thumped my forehead against the door.
“So, umm, do you have anything I can use to clean up?”
I yelped and spun around, clutching my chest. I was so busy fighting with Rocco I forgot about Seb. Put one more mark in the “things pregnancy does to you” column. It was the only excuse I had, because something was wrong with me. If I weren’t pregnant, nothing could ever make me forget about Sebastien St. Clair.
Seb pointed at his bloody lip. Oops. Right, he asked to clean up.
“Oh, um, yeah. Hold on.”
Flustered, I dashed into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the faucet, careful to avoid peeking at the mirror. I knew how I must look, after all the crying and shouting and mentally draining caveman crap. I would bet week-old roadkill was easier on the eyes. I squeezed out the washcloth and took a deep breath.
“Thanks.”
Seb took the washcloth and wiped his face, getting most of the blood off. The rest smeared until it looked like he lost the battle with a tube of MAC Russian Red lipstick. I knew I lost my mind when a completely inappropriate giggle burst out. Seb frowned and his brows squinched over his gorgeous blue eyes, which made me laugh harder. The adorable, puzzled look on Seb’s face set off a fit of hysterics, one that likely left him wondering if I was entirely sane.
“Sorry,” I wheezed between giggles. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”
Seb, having his own moment of acting completely unlike himself, took my elbow and gently led me to sit on the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked as he sat so close our thighs touched.
God. I missed him so much. Being so near, the physical contact, him acting all concerned—the switch on my emotions flipped yet again and my laughter morphed into hitched sobs. I was so damn sick of crying, but couldn't stop. When Seb wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of my head, holding me while I wept, I lost it.
“I-I’m s-sorry I didn't t-tell you.” Snot and tears soaked into Seb's shirt as I clung to it, the material fisted in my hands. “I-I didn't know w-what to say.”
Seb gently pried my fingers apart, then gathered my hands in his and kissed my knuckles, one at a time, the endeavor so sweet my breath caught. Pulse racing, I stared at Seb, and a bevy of emotions bubbled up and over. I didn't know what to do or think.
“I know we need to talk,” Seb said carefully. “About a lot of things.” His breath caressed the back of my hand and his gaze dropped to my midsection. I felt him tense at the visual reminder of his impending fatherhood.
We had to talk about the baby, and I knew that. I just didn’t want the rare, tender moment to end. Didn’t want to argue, see Seb’s gaze turn cold, or watch him stalk out of my room. He had to be furious that I kept a secret he should have been in on.
“But now isn’t the time.” The lines around Seb’s eyes relaxed a fraction, as did his rigid posture. “You look exhausted, and you're upset. No need to add to the stress.” He let go of my hands to squeeze my knee. “We’ll talk later. After you've gotten some rest.”
Seb went to stand and a burst of adrenaline sent me into a panic. I scrabbled for a hold and caught the hem of his shirt. I held it in a death grip, as I vibrated with the very real fear Seb might walk out of my bedroom and decide he never wanted to see again.
“Don't leave!”
With me clinging to his clothes, Seb sat back on the bed. He turned to look at me, his forehead creased with indecision. I watched Seb shuffle through a half-dozen emotions. Should he run? Stay? Talk? Shout? Cry? Pull out all his hair? As I stared into his eyes, I noticed one of them twitched. The tiny muscles spasmed every second or two, over and over.
“Please, don’t go,” I begged, officially shedding my last bit of pride. “We don't have to talk. I… Will you…” My heart thundered, nearly drowning out my voice. “Will you stay?” Seb glanced at the door. It didn’t take a genius to guess why he hesitated. “Rocco knows better than to bother us,” I explained. “I don't make false threats, and he knows it. The last thing Rocco wants is for me to move out. He'll be good.”
Of that, I was confident. Hey, at least I was confident about something, because lord knows I had no flipping idea what I was doing when it came to Seb or anything else in my messed up life.
In a tender gesture, Seb reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I melted under the heat of his stare. Not heat, warmth. Like he cared. And in his own way, he had to. Seb wouldn’t put up with Rocco’s crap to get to me, wouldn’t bleed for me, if he didn't care.
In the hopes I could persuade Seb not to go, I pulled up my feet and lay back. “Please. Will you lay down with me?”
I swallowed and patted the spot next to me. Seb squirmed and his eye continued to twitch. Then, decision made, he toed off his shoes and joined me on the bed. After positioning his tall body next to me, he grabbed me by the waist and proceeded to push and pull and maneuver me how he wanted, until he was spooning me from behind. Seb’s long fingers fanned out across my hip, fingertips pressing into the flesh. The possessive gesture put a lump in my throat.
“I know we have to talk about the baby,” he whispered, his breath on the back of my neck. Goose bumps pricked my skin and I shivered. “And we will. Later. Turn off your brain and get some sleep. I can practically hear the gears spinning.”
I huffed out a laugh and closed my eyes, surprised to find I was able to relax, even with the odds that Rocco was lurking on the other side of my bedroom door somewhere around
As I drifted off, a smile tugged at my lips. When it came to Seb, I still had my doubts, but they no longer seemed all that important.
Sleep came almost instantly.
Seb
Kylie's breathing grew slow and even, and I felt the anxiety leech from her body with every rise and fall of her chest. I was glad she was getting some sleep, because I wasn’t. No way was I going to close my eyes. I’d run for president of the Justin Bieber fan club before I let my guard down with Rocco Calloway skulking around nearby. Bastard probably had his ear pressed against the door. If I had any idea Kylie lived with him… her, ugh, brother, I wouldn't have come.
Fuck it. That was a lie.
Even if I knew about Calloway, I wouldn’t have done anything different. Except maybe been prepared for Sasquatch to attack me the second he answered the door. Sucker punched me right in the damn mouth.
My blood pressure rose. I clenched my jaw and shoved Calloway out of my head. I didn’t want to think about him. Instead, I propped an elbow so I could watch Kylie sleep, a first for me, mostly because I was gone the second I busted my nut. I would have made an exception for Kylie, but she took off before sleeping arrangements were discussed.
I blinked away the gut-clenching memory and soaked in everything Kylie. She looked even more breathtaking in her sleep, her features relaxed, body pliant, and those thick lips slightly parted. More beautiful than at that idiotic team dinner, the one I’d been arm twisted into attending. The fact that in her sleep, she outshone the ball-tingling, backless black dress she wore that night, spoke volumes as to how stunning Kylie truly was. I studied the thick fan of dark lashes splayed across her cheek and the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose.