Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game

oppressive silence that smelled of lemon polish and old money, the kind of silence that usually preceded a scream. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, a rhythmic thumping that

re picking up a scalpel, a way t

a scalpel tonigh

w of the bedside lamps and the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. The air inside was different-thick, cloying. It sm

em, tangled together on the king-sized bed that was covered in Egyptian cotton sheets she had selected from

r hair a chaotic mess over her shoulders. She didn't look ashamed. She looked entertained. She looked at He

way to the kitchen?" Jasm

ighlighting the definition of his chest. A cigar smoked between his fingers, the ash dangerously close to falling onto the duvet. He looked at Helena with heavy-lidded

voice was a low rumble, rough with whiske

es spill over. Crying was a physiological response to stress, a release valve. She couldn't afford a release. Not when

approach. She moved past the foot of the bed, ignoring Jasmine's theatrical gasp

r down Authur's bicep. "She's going to pour us a dri

ling a bottle of champagne that remained unopened. She gripped the cold metal handles. The condensation slicked h

rned a

t in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, sharp wariness

a?" he

d in three long strides. She didn't run. Running implied panic. She w

to move. "Helen

ng the

n onto the bed. It hit Authur square in the chest and face, soaking his hair, extinguishing the cigar with a pathetic h

there was only the sound of dripping

chest heaved. The shock vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, volatile rage.

The sound vibrated

th a dull thud. She looked up at him, her face completely bl

Her voice was steady, terrifyi

ists clenched at his sides. The veins in his neck bulged. He looke

g over her, using his height to intimidate.

nder! Mrs.

Charles, the head butler. His voice was projected, louder than necessary, a frantic w

placed by a look of sheer, unadulterated panic.

he hissed. "

to her chest, her makeup running in dark streaks down

pped. He looked at the door, then at H

ortantly, Authur's grandfather would invoke the morality clause in the trust fund. Authur would lose his boar

t let him s

paralysis of the s

a finger at the ensuite door. "G

blinking water out o

ethal whisper. "Unless you want your grandfath

e sound of heels clicking on the marble stairs below was getting louder. He

!" Helena bar

ering, clutching the sheet

ammy. Helena shoved her toward the walk-in closet. "Stay there. If you make a sound, I

the closet. Helena s

m. The pipes groaned as t

e. The bed was soaked. The carpet was a swamp. T

he hallway. Th

. She pulled it on over her dress, buttoning it halfway with trembling fingers. She reached up and roughed up her hair, pulling strands loose f

k. K

" It was Mrs. Alexander's

pen it fully. She cracked it, blocking the gap with her bo

to her cheeks. She

er eyes narrowing as she took in Helena's appearance-the

prised. She tried to peer past Hele

the sound of the sh

.. showering," she murmured. "We... we were just..." She gestured vaguely to her dis