All Chapters of 100 WAYS TO SIN: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

Vivian I stared at the dark screen after the call ended and felt the anger sitting high in my chest. He had used the stake to manufacture a private conversation and then used the conversation to demand my presence at a dinner I had no professional obligation to attend. The controlled way he delivered every instruction made it worse. There was no raised voice to fight against. Only the steady application of leverage and the clear statement that he intended to keep applying it. I stood up and walked to the window of my office. The city moved below like nothing had shifted. Everything had shifted. Julian Rhodes now occupied space inside my company and inside the hours of my day. He had told me outright that the personal pressure would increase. The worst part was the way my body registered the threat. Heat. Awareness. A low pull that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way he looked at me when he stopped pretending the only thing between us was a percentage of

Vivian I woke in his bed before the alarm I had set on my phone. The sheets smelled like him. My body held the residual ache of how he had taken me the night before. Julian slept on his side facing me with one arm still resting across my waist. In sleep the controlled intensity he wore during the day softened into something that looked almost ordinary. I watched him for a longer moment than I should have and then carefully moved out from under his arm. The apartment was quiet and still dark. I gathered my clothes from the floor and dressed in the bathroom without turning on the overhead light. My reflection in the mirror looked like someone who had stopped fighting a battle she had already lost in private. I left before he woke. The elevator ride down felt longer than the actual floors. Outside the early morning air did nothing to clear the knowledge of where I had spent the night. At my own apartment I showered and changed and stood in the kitchen with coffee I did not drink. The

ETHAN I stared at the message from Miles for a full minute before I replied. Can you help Ivy move this weekend? She finally found a place and the guys I usually ask are out of town. Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. It was important. That was the problem. Miles almost never asked for favors that involved his sister. The last time I had spent more than ten minutes around Ivy was at his birthday dinner six months ago. She had worn a black dress that kept pulling my attention no matter how hard I tried to keep it on the conversation. I had left early. I typed back. Yeah. I can help. Send me the address and time. His reply came quickly. Saturday morning. Her current place at nine. New apartment across town. He thanked me twice and said he owed me a beer. I locked the phone and set it face down on the counter. The familiar weight settled in my chest. Guilt first. Then the quieter, more dangerous pull that always showed up when Ivy’s name entered the conversation. Saturday arrive

Ethan I told myself I would keep it short. Go over, help with the last boxes and the curtains, then leave before the quiet of the apartment could turn into something else. Miles was due back in the evening. That fact should have been enough to keep my head straight. It was not. I knocked on Ivy’s door at ten the next morning with a bag of hardware for the shelves we had not finished. She opened it wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, hair still damp from a shower. The citrus scent of her shampoo reached me before she said anything. “You came back,” she said. “I said I would.” I stepped inside. The apartment looked better than the day before. Some boxes had been broken down. The shelves held books. The bed in the other room was made. I kept my eyes away from it and set the bag on the counter. We worked without much conversation. I installed the last brackets while she handed me screws. Every time her fingers brushed mine the contact lingered longer than it needed to. I focu

Ethan The phone rang in my hand while I was still staring at the last message I had sent. Do not call. The screen showed Ivy’s name. I let it ring three times while the smarter part of my brain listed every reason to reject the call. Then I answered. “I told you not to call.” “I know.” Her voice was quiet and steady. “I did it anyway.” I sat down on the edge of my couch and dragged a hand over my face. The apartment was dark except for the light over the stove. I had been home for less than an hour and the entire evening was still sitting in my chest like a weight. “Miles looked at us like he already knew something was wrong,” I said. “I know.” “I had my hand on his sister’s neck when he walked through the door.” “I know that too.” The silence on the line stretched. I could hear her breathing. I could picture her sitting on the bed we had put together two days earlier. The same bed that had been the first real mistake in a series of smaller ones. “I should hang up,” I said.