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Sins

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EXTRA long chapter

Chapter 13: Sins (Anastasia's POV)

I didn't dare to stop Dante as he pulled me out of the room and down the hall, stopping at the elevators where we waited. 

The rational side of my brain was screaming at me to stop, go back into that room, and investigate the scene like I was supposed to. After all, it was my job, and this was what I had signed up for. 

In my years as an agent, I had never encountered a case like this with so many questions surrounding it and no answer in sight. Everything was a mysterious jigsaw puzzle; we weren't even one step closer to solving it. 

Monica Coleman could be getting killed as we stood there, and we wouldn't even know it. Everyone always said that no matter how cunning a criminal may be, they would always leave a clue and some kind of evidence, no matter how cautious they were. In this case, even if clues were left behind, everything was so confusing that we could have missed it. There were so many people at the scene; it was all chaos. 

My gaze drifted to Dante's grip on my hand. I couldn't decide if I wanted to pull away or not. The first time he grabbed my hand tonight, I hardly noticed it. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I was horrified at what we could have walked into, and I didn't realize when his touch brushed against my skin. 

But when he did take my hand, I knew it instantly. It was like a trail of fire shot up my arm, pinning me in place. I couldn't let go even if I wanted to. Despite the agents surrounding us in that room, it felt unsafe, like someone was watching us, perhaps even following us. 

Dante's suspicions seemed possible, so I didn't argue and let him bring me out. The longer his hand remained in mine, the more familiarity began sinking in. My breath hitched for entirely different reasons now. "You can let go," I said after a beat. 

His hand slipped out of mine without another word, without so much as a glance at me. The doors closed once we stepped inside, and we stood in awkward silence again. 

"Why do you think we were being watched?" I questioned, glancing at him briefly. 

"Whoever this person is, they like the attention. It wouldn't make any sense for them to call us here and not be there to witness our reactions," he exhaled, resting his shoulder against the wall. 

Taking a step away, I leaned against the opposite wall, bracing my hands on the railing behind me. "It's been three days, and we don't have one solid piece of evidence," I said, "maybe we're doing something wrong." 

He turned to face me, his body now mirroring mine. "We're doing everything we can." 

"It's clearly not enough." 

He took in an exasperated breath. "There's no point in sulking." 

"I'm not sulking about it," I bit back defensively, "I'm just saying maybe we should take a step back and re-evaluate how we're doing things." He stared at me for a beat, and I felt heat steadily crawling up the nape of my neck, threatening to bleed into my cheeks, tinting them red. 

It suddenly felt too hot in that elevator, and no distance between us felt like it was enough. "We don't work well together anymore," I told him, "we should admit it." 

"I'll be the first to," he replied, pushing off the wall and taking a step forward, tucking his hands into his pockets. "If I knew it would be this way, I never would have agreed to work with you." 

I moved forward, taking a step closer to him. "And what way is that?" I questioned, lifting a brow. "Don't pretend like I'm the one being difficult." 

"It takes two to play at this game," he retorted, taking another step forward. 

No matter how badly I wanted to stand my ground, the proximity was overwhelming. I couldn't help how my feet naturally retreated, my back meeting the wall. 

"You're doing everything you can to get rid of me," he accused, stepping closer and bracing his hands on the railing behind me, caging me in. 

"Because you make my life difficult," I ground out in annoyance. "I hate you, and I hate working with you." 

It was impossible not to notice the way his eyes traveled across my face, glazing over every inch, and dropping to my lips before he met my gaze again. "The feeling is mutual, Ms Vitalio," he whispered. 

With the sharp ding of the elevator, the doors slid open, and we moved apart. I took a quick breath as the distance between us increased again and followed him out of the elevator and settled in the passenger seat of his car as he held the door open, slamming it shut. 

I watched him with narrowed eyes as he rounded the car, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. Once he started driving, he asked, "Where am I dropping you off?" 

"What do you mean? My apartment, of course. Where else would I go?" I read the warning in his eyes as he looked at me, words unspoken. "I am capable of protecting myself in case something happens, Mr Rossi. I'm just as much of an agent as you are." 

"Not to mention the massive fucking Doberman," he muttered under his breath, taking a right turn, resting one hand on the clutch, the other on the wheel. "When did you get a dog?" he questioned after a beat. 

"About a year ago," I answered, turning to look out the window. "I needed something to replace you with." 

"A dog?" he asked, amusement dripping from his voice. "You replaced me with a dog?" 

"Not that much of a difference. All men are dogs," I mused, keeping my eyes on the road. 

I stole a glance at him as a dry chuckle escaped him while he ran his tongue along his cheek. "Are they now?" he asked. 

"Speaking historically, I think most women would agree," I shrugged, reaching up to trace my earring. 

Within the next few minutes, he pulled over in front of my apartment, and I got out, heading back upstairs. 

The sun was already up before I wanted, and I was back in the office just like every other day. A few hours went into updating Marshall on last night's events, and for the first half of the day, Dante was nowhere in sight. He hadn't come to the office. After lunch, he strolled in as if he owned the place. 

Annoyance surged through me at the sight of him, but I bit my tongue and turned my attention back to the evidence file in front of me. 

"You're finally here," Marshall told him. 

"My meetings ran late," he replied curtly. 

"Anastasia will fill you in on tonight's plans, and then you both should leave and get ready, hmm?" Marshall said, patting his shoulder firmly on the way out. 

Bracing my hands on my desk, I stayed standing and met his eyes. "Can I get you anything, Mr Rossi?" I asked sarcastically. "You've invited yourself to leisurely walk in and out of this office as you please, I'm assuming you'd like a coffee too now?" 

"Espresso, actually," he replied dryly. 

I rolled my eyes in response. "The event starts at eight, we'll reach by nine. Agents will already be there ahead of us to keep an eye on the crowd and cross-check the guest list. We have to make sure every guest is in attendance. If someone's missing, we'll look into them," I explained, rounding the table. 

"The cops and an ambulance are on standby in case anyone gets hurt. If anything happens, we have to lock down the place immediately, and stop everyone from getting out." I came to a halt in front of him and leaned back against the table. "Do you understand?" 

Releasing a slow breath, he welcomed himself into my personal space and stepped closer, leaning forward. I blinked in surprise as his lips came within inches of mine. "I understand," he smirked, leaning past me to grab a file before stepping away. 

I bit down on the curses sitting at the tip of my tongue and wrapped things up. 

"I'll pick you up at eight-thirty," he told me as I headed for the door. 

"Excuse me?" I asked. 

"We have to go together," he said, turning to me. "It's fairly obvious by now, that the culprit knows who we are, and they wanted us to work on this case. They've had their moment, it's ours now. He or she already made their move, it's our turn." 

I eyed him for a minute. 

"Eight-thirty," he repeated. Without responding, I left and headed home to start getting ready for the night. 

Hours passed, and by the time I picked up my dress from the cleaners, showered, and got ready, it was just a little before eight-thirty. Bending down, I refilled the dog bowl as I called out, "Kenji!" Grinning, I scratched his scruff and the backs of his ears, and moments after I stood back up, the doorbell rang. 

Unlocking the door, I swung it open, my brows rising. I wasn't expecting him to come upstairs at all. "Mr Rossi," I mumbled. 

"Ms Vitalio," he said, holding my gaze. "Ready to go?" 

"Give me a second," I told him, spinning around to re-enter my kitchen, where I grabbed my phone and clutch off the counter and gave Kenji one final pat. 

I locked the front door as Dante waited by the elevator, and I could almost feel the ghost of his gaze lingering on me, scanning me from head to toe. I'd forgotten how aware each of my senses were of him, how well I'd learned to memorize his presence, his every move. I'd forgotten how my body reacted to him. 

Taking a breath to steady myself, I spun around and joined him in the elevator. As we drove to The Revival, the air between us remained charged. I was so cautious of every move I made and conscious of every glance we shared. 

It felt like something was weighing down on my chest whenever we were alone, a thread pulled so taut as if it was going to snap, a tether tied into a knot so tight it would burst. 

Parking the car, he stepped out and rounded to my side, opening the door. "I can never tell if you truly are such a gentleman or just really good at pretending to be one," I said, stepping out to join him, falling into step beside him as we walked in. 

"If anyone would know, it's you," he replied. 

I let out a dry chuckle, "I wasn't talking about in the bedroom." 

"Neither was I," he said, "then again, you'd know best, wouldn't you?" 

My gaze narrowed slightly at him. "Don't push it." I couldn't understand how he spoke of the past so casually. Yes, everything that happened between us was... casual in a way, but the way things ended wasn't pretty. 

He either had no conscience and felt no guilt whatsoever, or his head was so far up his own ass that he didn't think he'd done anything wrong. 

Entering the gallery, my chest instantly felt constricted. Knowing what could happen at the end of tonight and remembering what happened in the past made me feel uneasy. I didn't feel safe even in that crowded room. 

"You're anxious," Dante commented, "it's showing. Breathe, Ms Vitalio." His hand drifted to the small of my back as if it were natural. The worst part was it didn't feel as wrong as I wished. 

Several minutes passed as we continued circling the room, several agents scattered across the place, all of us constantly exchanging signals. "Every guest is here, but nobody seems suspicious," I whispered, the two of us slowing down as we approached a separate collection of paintings. 

"We have to remember that it's possible the culprit isn't a guest," he said softly. "They're definitely watching, though. We should split up." I agreed, and so we parted ways. 

I continued strolling around until I approached a new area designated for a specific group of paintings. For the first time that night, the paintings I was looking at caught my eye. 

Seven paintings were lined along the wall, each assigned a title, one of the seven deadly sins. Pride depicted an arrogant king's demise. Sloth portrayed a human decaying in bed. Greed, a woman drowning in a pool of her possessions and wealth, and so on. 

The final painting brought me to a halt. Lust. 

Dark shades of red casted a hue over the painting, bringing out the rich tones in each color and each brush stroke. The painting illustrated a woman, bare and unclothed, in the center. A crimson blindfold elegantly coming undone, her head tipped back, and lips parted. 

While the lower half of the painting faded out to black, only showing her torso and above, it was depicted to portray her in a man's lap. 

His lips were on her neck as she arched her back with his arms around her, caging her from behind and holding her in his lap. One hand was splayed over her breast, the colors deep enough to express the human touch, imitating the lustful grip on flesh as his fingers dug into her skin.

 Warm hues brought a certain kind of brightness to their bodies, almost glowing. The man's other hand drifted down between her thighs, merging into the rest of the painting. 

I could feel each breath I took getting heavier, a pit settling into my stomach, into my core. 

Is a fucking painting seriously turning me on? 

"It's seductive, isn't it?" came a sudden voice. 

I snapped out of my daze and turned to my left. "Sorry?" I asked. 

"The painting," he said, turning to me. "It's seductive." 

I blinked in confusion and let out a slow breath. "It... sure is." 

"Doesn't it make you wonder?" 

I stared at him in confusion. 

"What it's like to be touched that way?" he asked. 

"Excuse me?" My eyes drifted over his attire. 

The crisp black tux he wore and the blonde hair brushed back, a single strand constantly tumbling out and falling over his eyes. His eyes, a deep shade of blue, so blue it looked like one could drown in them. 

His lip twitched in amusement as he stepped closer to me. "Doesn't that seem like the artist's intention? To make us wonder what it would feel like?" 

I kept my eyes on him, pure confusion surging through me. I couldn't recognize him. "Have we met?" I questioned. 

"No," he answered with a shake of his head. His gaze traveled down my dress. 

The red silk flowed down to my heels, a slit going up my left leg, baring my thigh while the bodice hugged me nicely, two wide bands crossing over at my chest as a halter and going down my back, tying into the low cut of the dress at my waist, leaving my back bare. 

"No," I repeated his answer. 

His eyes lifted back to mine before going over my shoulder. Before I could ask for a name, he smiled, "Excuse me." 

A sharp gasp escaped me as a warm hand settled on my bare back, and I spun around swiftly, hands flying up to his chest. 

He stared at me for a second before lifting his brows. "Something wrong?" he asked. 

"Huh?" I shook my head. "Nothing." I couldn't tell what made it so hard for me to catch my breath. Was it something about the man I'd just met or the painting itself? 

Dante looked at the painting for a few seconds before turning to me. His fingers delicately traveled up my spine as he withdrew from me, sending shivers through my entire body. I hadn't realized why that painting affected me the way it did until Dante came to me at that moment. 

It made me... crave him. 

The sound of mechanical whirring suddenly echoed throughout the gallery, and I felt my heart drop instantly. Questions and confusion swept across the crowd as everyone stilled. 

"Oh my god," I whispered, glancing up at the ceiling. Just like the first time, the attic had come undone. 

A body, certainly a woman's, almost floated down, tied with red silk used for aerial dancing and covered in a sheer white sheet. Arms outstretched and feet crossed, the fabric shifting around her seemed like wings, and she practically drifted down like an angel. 

"Lock the doors," Dante demanded into his phone, "nobody gets out." 

As her feet touched the floor, the white sheet draped over her fell to the ground. It was Monica Coleman. Not a single wound on her body, nothing except for the way she had turned pale and blue, gave away that she was dead. 

She wasn't stripped and was dressed in a white gown instead, her hair brushed neatly. She was made to look like... a fallen angel. 

"She's been poisoned," I whispered, catching the stains of foam at her mouth. 

Screams erupted in the room once again as the crowd rushed for the exit. But this time... no one was getting out.

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Chapter 13

This is definitely the longest fucking chapter I've ever written. I didn't want to break it up into two chapters because I write as I upload, and I didn't want to lose my flow yk

BUT

take this long chapter because the day after tomorrow, I'm going on a short road trip with my family, up in the hills, and all you guys. 

Hopefully, I'll have wifi there so I can write, but just in case I don't, I won't be writing for the next 4-5 days, so bear with me!

anyways, the outfits are the first comment, and I'll shut up now

next ch: heaven

low key the best chapter so far, I think. What do ya'll think tho?