A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 6

Present day

Eight months. That’s how long I’ve been playing the role of the dutiful daughter. It hasn’t been all bad though. Turns out, I like working at Swan Enterprises. Enough to accept the full-time position my father offered me after my summer internship came to an end.

Who would have thought? The idea of taking over this company and running it as my own isn’t as bad as it once was.

That’s the one good thing I’ve gained from working here. My mission to find something to use to get me out of the marriage deal my father made? Well, that’s a complete failure. I’ve been burying my head in denial, especially the last few months with wedding preparations happening all around me.

I refused to partake in them. It doesn’t matter what colour the flowers are. They might as well be dead. I’m down to my last seven days of freedom as I know it. I really need a new plan.

I could slip something into his drink at the rehearsal dinner. How hard is it to get your hands on poison anyway? There can’t be a wedding if the groom is dead. But then again, I really do not fancy wearing jail greens for the rest of my life. I have one more year until I can have my trust, until I can get my mother’s necklace and be done with the charade of being the perfect Swan princess.

If I had a get out of jail free card, I’d do it. But unfortunately, that’s just a game and not an option in real life. I’ve thought about robbing the bank that houses my father’s safe deposit boxes. I could get my mother’s necklace and just disappear. But again, if I got caught—which honestly chances are I probably would because I’m not a criminal mastermind—I’d be rocking a green tracksuit for God only knows how long.

One year. How bad can one year of marriage be? If it were anyone else other than Oliver I could probably cope, but the idea of being trapped in a house with him… In a bed with him…

My entire body shivers at the thought.

Maybe that plan of already being married will work. It can’t be Drew, though. My father would have it annulled within a minute.

I walk into my best friend’s apartment, finding him sprawled out on the sofa with a PlayStation remote in his hand. “Get up. We’re going out.” I position myself right in front of his screen, blocking his view.

“Fuck, Aria, you just got me killed,” Drew grumbles before throwing the controller down on the table. “What do you mean we’re going out? Where are we going?”

“You were right. I need a husband who isn’t Oliver Densper. We’re going to go find me one.” I smile at him. I feel like this might actually be the best plan I’ve ever had.

“Okay, the fact that you’re admitting I was right about anything tells me how desperate things have gotten. And is there a store or something? Where does one go to find a husband?”

“No idea, but let’s start with some alcohol. We can bar hop and find potential candidates,” I suggest.

“You know my offer still stands. I’ll marry you. We can have a marriage full of love. We can even get a dog. Just don’t ask for sex. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Drew laughs.

“Gross, and it can’t be you. Dad wouldn’t believe it. And he’d just have it annulled. I need someone who won’t back down from my father. I need someone who’d also be willing to go through a divorce without causing any issues when the time comes. But most of all, I need someone who won’t fall in love with me.” I list each item off on my fingers.

“With your peachy personality, I’m sure that last one won’t be a problem.” Drew chuckles to himself as he pushes up off the sofa.

“And yet, you chose to be my best friend. What does that say about you?” I toss out to his retreating back as he makes his way down the hall.

“Just as peachy. You’re like my soul sister. You are me in female form,” Drew calls out in my direction.

“A less slutty female form,” I remind him.

“Meh, I can’t help if I have a healthy sex drive. You should try it sometime. You might actually find you like it.”

“I have tried it, dipshit,” I tell him. He knows the handful of guys I’ve actually slept with, as well as the fact I’ve never had an orgasm I didn’t give myself. Which is why I don’t really bother trying to hook up anymore. It only leads to disappointment.

“Not with the right person,” Drew hollers back.

“I very much doubt you’re going to find a husband in here,” Drew says as we make our way through the dive bar. I wanted to go somewhere we haven’t been before. Somewhere that’s off the beaten track a little. But not too far off, if that makes sense.

“Well, we didn’t have any luck at the last place you suggested either. Who would have thought it’d be so hard to find a husband?” I huff as I lower myself down onto a barstool.

“Me. I warned you. I bet it’s not hard to find a wife, though,” he says, looking behind me.

I turn and see another hot little brunette. My friend is nothing but consistent. Drew has a thing for tiny brunettes. “Need me to wife you up?” I ask while turning back to face him.

“Nope, this night is about finding you a husband,” he says.

“I don’t mind. Honestly, bringing you along was probably not the best idea. No man is going to approach me or talk to me when they think I’m here with another guy.”

“You have a point,” Drew says.

“Go get yourself a wife. I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m going to go to the bar we passed a few blocks down,” I tell Drew.

“You’re not walking the streets by yourself,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

“Not walking. Have you seen these heels? I’ve already called an Uber. Catch you later.” I kiss his cheek and walk out of the bar before he can try to change my mind. I can do this by myself.

I’ll just go, order myself a drink, and see what happens. If I go home alone, I go home alone. It’s not the end of the world.

“What can I get you?” The bartender smiles flirtatiously at me—well, that sure doesn’t happen when Drew’s ordering our drinks.

Huh, maybe leaving him behind was a good idea after all.

“I’ll have a vodka soda, with lime. Please,” I say, then add, “Double,” when he reaches for the glass. I need all the liquid courage I can get if I’m going to propose marriage to a complete stranger.

After my third drink, I still haven’t seen any potential buyers. I do, however, need to pee. Really badly. I slide off the stool and quickly grip on to the edge of the bar. The room is only spinning a little. Once I get my bearings, I walk down the back of the bar, following the light with the lady on it, indicating it’s the women’s bathroom.

You know that feeling when your bladder’s bursting at the seams and you finally get to empty it? It’s good. Probably a bit of TMI, but this is my story, and you’re here for it. So take the good with the bad, I guess.

After washing my hands and reapplying the light pink gloss to my lips, I walk—maybe stumble—out of the bathroom. I should give up. I’m not going to be able to find a husband. I don’t know what I was thinking. Deciding it’s time to leave, I reach into my bag to pull out my phone when something or somebody knocks into me from the side.

I go tumbling, but I don’t hit the ground. Because when I look up again, I’m sitting on someone’s lap. A man’s lap. His hands gripping my waist and his fingers tightening and loosening against my skin.

“I… ah…” Shit, think, Aria. Say something. “Sorry?”

The man—no, I think this one might actually be a god—raises a single eyebrow at me. “Are you asking me if you’re sorry or telling me that you are?” His voice, deep and gravelly, goes straight through me. What the hell is that?

“I am… sorry. I don’t know what happened,” I reply.

He tilts his head to the side. “And here I was, thinking you just fell right out of the heavens.” He smiles.

I laugh. Like laugh so hard that I end up snorting. My hand comes up and covers my mouth. My face heats with embarrassment. It’s at this exact moment that I realise I’m still sitting on the guy and place my hands on his chest. Big mistake, because there’s nothing but rock-hard muscle under the suit he’s wearing. I push myself to my feet. His hands stay firmly on my waist until I’m standing.

I walk over and slide into the seat opposite him. “Does that line ever actually work?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before. Did it work?” His lips tip up into a smirk.

“No. But it did make me laugh, so you get bonus points for that. I’m Aria.” I offer him a hand, purposely leaving out my last name.

“Santo,” he says, wrapping one huge fucking palm around mine. “So, Aria, you make a habit of falling onto men’s laps?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I didn’t fall. I was knocked over.” I look around the bar. There’re more people in here than there was when I came in.

Santo’s face hardens. “Someone knocked into you? Who?” he questions while his eyes flick from corner to corner.

“I’m not sure. I am sorry, though,” I tell him. “But maybe it was fate.” I smile. This is a bad idea, but this guy seems to be exactly what I’m looking for. Well put-together, someone who looks like they won’t take shit from anyone. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he’s not the type to want to get married and settle down. Why would you if you look like a god? All he’d have to do is wiggle a finger and he’d have girls dropping their panties. “I think you might actually be exactly what I need.”

“Trust me, darling, I’m not what anyone needs,” he grunts in response.