Sinful: Sinful Surrender Quartet, #1

By Katherine Hawthorne

★★★★★ "A heart-pounding, jaw-dropping, sinfully delicious story!" -Wicked Tales of Racy Reads

 

Xander was a dream that would never be.

 

One catastrophic night left me orphaned at the age of seventeen. Hunted by a murderer, Xander saved me from the pits of hell, braving a fire that would have ended my life. Hiding me from a killer, he became my protector, my best friend, but never anything more.

 

Sin was a nightmare waiting to happen.

 

Six years later, a friend is murdered at the hottest nightclub in Manhattan, again thrusting me into a killer's crosshairs. Now a detective with the NYPD, I refuse to hide, unyielding in my pursuit of justice, which has eluded me for so long. Determined to keep me safe, Sin forces me from the case. Defying him at every turn, our contentious relationship finally explodes in the most scandalous way conceivable, leaving me devastated.

 

I wanted them both.

 

Xander, sophisticated and elegant. My hero, the man who owns my heart. Sin, dominating alpha-male. My lieutenant, forbidden in so many ways. One dangerous kiss changes everything, catapulting me into a war between the two, neither of them willing to let me go. I become a pawn in their game until they join forces in a way I never saw coming. But lies and deception threaten to destroy us, leading to a betrayal that cuts so deep, I wonder if I'll ever survive.

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sinful ends in a cliffhanger! This MFM romance is all about the girl. All books in the quartet are now complete as should be read as follows:

Sinful (Sinful Surrender Quartet, Book 1)

Sensuous (Sinful Surrender Quartet, Book 2)

Scandalous (Sinful Surrender Quartet, Book 3)

Shameless (Sinful Surrender Quartet, Book 4)

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine Hawthorne
• Release date: Aug 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393469834

Katherine Hawthorne

Katherine Hawthorne loves sexy alpha males and books that come with warnings, which is exactly what she writes. Throwing out the last vestiges of her oh-so-proper Ivy League education, she traded tedious academic writing, combined her favorite genres, and found her greatest joy in writing romantic suspense. When Katherine isn’t writing, you can find her racing down the ski slopes in the winter and relaxing on the beach in the summer, most likely lost in a book. Married with four children, three of which still live at home, life is a never-ending crazy thrill ride, one she quite happily embraces.

Book preview

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2018 by Katherine Hawthorne

All rights reserved.

Cover design: T.E. Black Designs:  www.teblackdesigns.com

Cover photo: Artur Verkhovetskiy

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Xander was a dream that would never be.

One catastrophic night left me orphaned at the age of seventeen. Hunted by a murderer, Xander saved me from the pits of hell, braving a fire that would have ended my life. Hiding me from a killer, he became my protector, my savior, but never anything more.

Sin was a nightmare waiting to happen.

Six years later, a friend is murdered at the hottest nightclub in Manhattan, again thrusting me into a killer’s crosshairs. Now a detective with the NYPD, I refuse to hide, unyielding in my pursuit of justice, which has eluded me for so long. Determined to keep me safe, Sin forces me from the case, but I defy him at every turn. Until our contentious relationship finally explodes in the most scandalous way conceivable, leaving me devastated.

I wanted them both.

Xander, sophisticated and elegant. My hero, the man who owns my heart. Sin, dominating alpha-male. My lieutenant, forbidden in so many ways. One dangerous kiss changes everything, catapulting me into a war between the two. Neither willing to let me go, I become a pawn in their game before they join forces in a way I never saw coming. But lies and deception threaten to destroy us, leading to a betrayal that cuts so deep, I wonder if I’ll ever survive.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

About This Book

1. Elizabeth

2. Elizabeth

3. Elizabeth

4. Sin

5. Belle

6. Xander

7. Belle

8. Sin

9. Sin

10. Belle

11. Xander

12. Belle

13. Xander

14. Sin

15. Belle

16. Sin

17. Belle

18. Sin

19. Belle

20. Belle

21. Belle

22. Sin

23. Xander

24. Belle

25. Sin

26. Belle

27. Xander

28. Sin

29. Belle

30. Sin

31. Sin

32. Xander

33. Belle

34. Sin

35. Belle

36. Belle

About the Author

What’s Next?

Elizabeth

Six years earlier.

I was seventeen years old when my body came alive for the first time. Who would have ever guessed that I would still be seventeen years old the night my life ended.

The same night, only hours apart.

Beginning with a celebration, it was the most magical night I’d ever experienced, especially when he walked through the ballroom’s pillared entrance and I ceased to breathe.

He was beautiful.

Drop-dead gorgeous in a tuxedo that couldn’t quite hide his powerful build, he exuded strength and masculinity. If I was closer, he would tower over my five-feet four inches, probably by a foot.

He moved with the grace of a natural predator, giving strength to the bad-boy vibe that emanated from him. Unable to stop from devouring him as he strode further into the room, I stood mesmerized. And I wasn’t the only one. His presence alone seemed to demand it, command it.

Desire slammed into me with a force so powerful it would have stolen my breath had I been able to breathe. Longing so complete, so hard and fast, my head spun, awakening my seventeen-year-old body instantly. Wetness soaked my panties, coated the inside of my thighs, the feeling foreign, never once happening before.

The surrounding crowd disappeared into obscurity, leaving only the two of us. I pictured him naked, devouring me, taking me. Commanding me. Thoughts I’d never had before but now rushed through my mind, unable to be pushed away as a whimper of need unintentionally escaped my lips.

Sin.

Pure unadulterated sin, I silently agreed.

Softly lit chandeliers shone down on his hair, as black as my own. From the distance separating us, I could tell his eyes were light but couldn’t make out the color. Green like mine? Or maybe they’d be blue? Blue, I decided, as if thinking it would make it true.

Sensing eyes on him, he turned slightly, his gaze connecting with mine for a heartbeat. My lips parted in a gasp as a shiver ran up my entire body before exploding into a heat so hot, I felt the burn all the way to my toes, heightened when his eyes took a slow slide down my body, heating me from the inside out as if he was touching me with his hands.

But the moment was over much too fast. Swarmed by partygoers, he turned with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

I meant his name is Sin, Sofia Esposito said, slowly pulling me from my trance.

How…apt.

Sofia laughed. It’s actually Alex Sinclaire. One of the Sin brothers.

There were more of him? Jesus.

Heir apparent to the NYPD throne.

What? I breathed long moments later, when I finally found my voice again.

The man you were just fucking with your eyes—

Jesus, Sofia. I choked out a half-laugh, turning to face my new friend as I took a gulp of illegally pilfered champagne. We’d only met about a month ago, but our connection was instant, as if we’d been friends for life.

Sofia waved off my shock. It’s not like every other woman here wasn’t thinking the same thing, me included. But alas, she sighed dramatically. We’re jailbait.

Yeah, I figured. Because none of the boys in my high school looked like that. But maybe he wouldn’t know? I’d barely recognized myself when I’d looked in the mirror after spending the day at the spa with my mother. Certainly, I’d pass for early twenties. How old is he?

Thirty.

Thirteen years my senior. Married?

No. Not that it matters. He wouldn’t touch either of us with a ten-foot pole. As I said, he’s on a fast track to lieutenant. Before you know it, he’ll be the commissioner, just like his father.

Ah, I thought, recognizing the name as the fog of desire slowly cleared. William Sinclaire’s promotion to NYPD Police Commissioner was the reason for tonight’s celebration. The older Sinclaire had the same powerful presence as his son, although I found him a little intimidating on the few occasions I’d met him. My mother worked with his wife, both pediatricians at Columbia Memorial Hospital.

I was still dreaming of Sin hours later as we rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor of the hotel room I was sharing with my parents. In my not-quite-inebriated-but-definitely-not-sober state, my fantasies ran a little wild. I dreamed of seducing him, feeling his hands on me the way I’d felt his gaze.

Heel catching on the space between the elevator and the hallway, I tripped, Sofia catching me before I fell. Get your head out of the gutter, she laughed.

Me? I scoffed. That’s where your head usually is.

Yours would be too if you knew what you were missing.

Believe me, it is now. He’s so…everything. A real man, compared to the boys my age.

Yeah, well, that’s not saying much. You go to a school filled with dorks.

I laughed. It was true, so I didn’t bother denying it. I was still laughing when I finally got the door to our room open.

And my laugh turned to horror.

The scream that left my lungs sounded more animalistic than human, agony ripping through me when my brain processed the scene. Rivers of red replaced the formerly elegant hotel room. Blood dripped from the crisp white walls, soaking the plush white carpet. Splashed on nearly every surface, like something out of a horror movie.

My mother was in the middle of the room, her open, lifeless eyes staring right through me, her arm reaching, reaching, as if begging for help that was way too late in coming.

An image I knew would haunt me for the rest of my days. Blood covered her face, still so fresh it dripped to the carpet below without a sound, as if in slow motion. Her gold dress was now crimson, the sequins catching the light from the crystal chandelier hanging directly above her, glinting off the steel butt of a gun just a few feet away.

The gun still gripped in my father’s hand.

The back of his head was a big gaping hole, brain matter mixing with blood, saturating the carpet behind him.

Noooo! The agonizing scream echoed throughout the hallway, piercing my own eardrums. Lunging for my mother, refusing to believe she was dead, Sofia grabbed me, struggling to drag me from the room as I screamed and fought, unable to stop.

I had to help, had to save her, ignoring Sofia when she repeatedly said they were gone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware of people surrounding me, felt my body being physically lifted away from Sofia, even as I fought off the hands until I was carried from the floor where both my parents lay dead.

Elizabeth

Two weeks later.

You’re wrong!

Honey—

"Don’t you dare honey me. Or speak to me as if I’m a child," I seethed, glaring at Commissioner William Sinclaire, so sick and tired of the condescending tone. I’d heard it from every police official I’d spoken with over the past two weeks. Hearing it from the commissioner was a blow I hadn’t expected. He’d been at the party. He was friends with my parents.

Although I tried to deny it, his declaration wasn’t shocking. Even in my uneducated position, I knew where the findings were heading. Had an inkling from the questions I’d been asked over the past two weeks, could hear the doubt in detectives’ voices when I’d said, repeatedly, that my parents had been happy.

"There’s no reason my father would murder my mother. There’s no motive."

And there was the pity. On cue. I stepped back as if he’d slapped me, falling into the chair behind me, the agony unbearable as my heart tore in two. What was left of it anyway.

No, I whispered, wishing I hadn’t planted my butt outside his office this morning, refusing to move until he would see me. With news I didn’t want to hear.

With a truth I would never accept.

A tear rolled down my cheek and I angrily brushed it away, refusing to cry in front of this man. Refusing to break down the way I had every single day for the two past weeks. Instead I let the anger bubbling through me take control, the anger that had been instant and all-consuming when the uniformed officer had appeared on my doorstep earlier to deliver the results of the investigation.

"You knew them. Knew they were perfect together, loved each other." But even as I uttered the words, I wondered if life was as perfect as it seemed. Before my parents’ murders, never would I have questioned it. But now…now it seemed as if I questioned everything.

Nobody knows what really goes on in a marriage except for the two people in it.

Don’t give me that bullshit, I growled, shocking myself. Never had I been so rude to another human being, let alone a highly decorated police commissioner.

But he didn’t look surprised. His expression was filled with sympathy as he slowly stood from his chair and crouched down in front of me until we were eye level. You want it straight, hon—Elizabeth. I’ll give it to you straight. We’ve been investigating this case twenty-four hours a day for the past two weeks. We have witnesses who saw your parents fighting before they went upstairs. The only two people in the hallway were your parents. Nobody snuck into their room, before, after, or during your parents’ deaths, he sighed, more sympathy filling his eyes. And by all accounts, your parents were separating.

I couldn’t contain my gasp of denial. That’s not true, I whispered, sinking further into the chair as if I could hide from him, hide from the truth. His truth, anyway. But I felt the fight going out of me, replaced by shock.

I’m afraid it is. Your father recently purchased the ski house upstate—

Our vacation home—

The commissioner held up his hand. Let me finish. Your father also had a few interviews with several colleges upstate. He had bank accounts, in his name only, that were recently opened. An attorney on retainer. So did your mother.

And as the commissioner droned on, listing fact after fact of how my parents were separating, I could only think that even if it were true, even if my mother was planning on leaving my father or vice versa, he would never have killed her. He wouldn’t do that to me.

I never remembered leaving his office, never remembered walking out of the building. Didn’t remember standing on the sidewalk as the harsh January wind numbed my body, the icy sleet pelting my cheeks as I stood outside the commissioner’s office, my tears freezing as they slid down my cheeks.

Out of nowhere, the press ran at me, screaming questions as I stood frozen on the sidewalk. Too late, I realized there was nowhere to turn, nowhere to run as they surrounded me on all sides, their microphones shoved in my face as they screamed in unison, hurling questions, not one decipherable over the rest.

No comment! My repeated mantra had no effect as I tried to fight my way through the throng, looking for any space large enough to squeeze through, fighting to get to the street, which had increased in distance and now seemed more like five miles rather than five steps.

They’d been hounding me for two weeks, nearly keeping me prisoner in my own home. My photograph had been splashed on every newspaper in the city along with my parents’. My phone had blown up so much, I’d been forced to change the number. A few enterprising reporters had snuck their way past security and somehow gotten up to the fourteenth floor of my apartment building. And one had even gone so far as to bribe somebody in the building directly across from mine, taking pictures in my worst moments of grief through the wall of windows, forcing me to keep the heavy drapes closed, living in a dark tomb with no escape. If I thought for one second giving them a statement would make them go away, I may have considered it, but I knew better. It would only make matters worse, would only bring more reporters to my door. If that were possible.

As I fought through the crowd, one of the reporters grabbed my arm, spinning me around. I gasped, astounded by his audacity, but before I could rip the microphone from his hand, an older gentleman was at my side, wrapping a powerful arm around my shoulders, protecting me from the crowd as he threatened the reporters.

They moved, instantly, finally giving me enough room to breathe, but questions still poured from their mouths, their voices growing louder until my head was spinning. The clicking of the cameras, every single one of them, seemed to explode inside my head. Unrelenting. A frenzy.

The man held me tighter, turning me around, pulling me back into the building I’d just left. But oh, God, I didn’t want to go back in there either, still hearing the commissioner’s words echo through my head, replaying in an endless loop.

You’ll be alright, he assured me. Let’s get you somewhere warm.

I nodded dumbly, gripping his shirt too tightly, wrinkling it in my fist as I hung on for dear life, welcoming being taken care of, probably for the last time in my life. He didn’t stop at the bank of elevators, just continued through the lobby, exiting out the back doors to the alley, following the man in front of him. A bodyguard, I realized, somewhere deep inside my psyche.

I could hear the deep cadence of his words, smell the warm scent of his cologne, so similar to my father’s, causing me to lean into his strength. And if I closed my eyes, I could almost believe it was my father whisking me away from my nightmares, taking care of me again with his quiet strength. As if I hadn’t stood in a cemetery on a cold winter day, the bitter wind biting my cheeks as I buried him alongside my mother last week, leaving me an orphan at the age of seventeen.

In a city of over eight and a half million people, my loneliness was crushing, my fear of the future crippling. Forced to become an adult way before I was ready, fighting off the state’s foster care system because my parents had neglected to name a guardian in the event of their deaths. I was now a ward of the state, hiring attorneys as I fought for my independence and control over my own money, unable to trust a soul because, suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of the wealthy orphaned heiress.

Drink.

I blinked, torn from thoughts that were pulling me into a black abyss I wasn’t sure how to escape from. The man pushed a coffee cup toward me, taking my hands in his and wrapping them around the warm cardboard.

I had no recollection of how we came to be in the small café, had no recollection of sitting in the booth, the welcoming scent of coffee and chocolate filling my nostrils as I finally remembered to breathe. We were the only customers. The blinds were closed, two men, one at each door, standing guard. Relishing the warmth, I took my first cautious sip, my frozen fingers slowly thawing before the rest of my body followed.

Do you have anywhere else to go, Miss Sullivan? Somewhere to escape the press?

The use of my name startled me. Finally looking up, I raised my eyes from the table. I didn’t know this man, didn’t know his name, didn’t believe I’d ever met him before. Slowly glancing from one security guard to the other, it occurred to me that I’d allowed him to lead me away. That he could take me from this empty café and nobody would ever know. He could be another reporter, luring me in for a story.

But when I met his light blue eyes again, it wasn’t fear that curled in my gut, it was safety. He smiled warmly, his expression concerned, and held out his hand. My deepest apologies. It seems I’ve neglected to introduce myself. Thomas Phoenix.

His large hand engulfed mine when I placed it in his, that feeling of safety rushing through me again. I recognized the cultured lilt in his voice that spoke of lifelong privilege, again reminding me of my father. But my recognition went deeper than that. You’ve left off ‘Governor.’

He smiled deeper, his dimples flashing briefly before he sobered again. His dark blonde hair was beginning to turn silver at the temples, his light blue eyes were shining with kindness and sincerity, so different than the endless stream of detectives and officers I’d spoken to over the past two weeks. I did. Purposely, as it’s unimportant. What is important is whether you have somewhere to go. I’m well aware of how relentless the press can be, and I fear they’ll destroy you if today’s events are any indication.

I… Can’t leave. I was the only person who would fight for my parents, fight for justice. Slowly, I shook my head. I can’t, Governor—

Thomas, he corrected gently. Or Mr. Phoenix, if you prefer. I assume you were meeting with the commissioner?

  I nodded, unable to stop myself from choking up again. But the commissioner’s words left me devastated, shattering my already shattered heart.

And what did he have to say?

Glancing up at him again, I sucked in a breath. My…father shot my mother before shooting himself, I repeated haltingly, the pain of saying those words out loud nearly killing me. Furiously, I wiped the tears from my cheeks again.

I’m truly sorry for your loss, Miss Sullivan. And for the added heartache the resulting investigation has caused.

I avoided looking at him again, didn’t want to see his sympathy until he startled me with his next question.

And what do you think?

I’m sure my surprise was written all over my face when I looked up, even as I searched his expression for signs of sincerity. I wasn’t going to go there, wasn’t going to tell him, or anyone, that I didn’t believe the commissioner, something the police probably heard time and again during their investigations from the loved ones left behind. Probably what you’d expect. No child would want to believe it possible, would they?

Tell me. I’m listening.

Why? The question left my mouth before I could stop it, but instead of answering, he patiently waited for me to respond. Was he placating me, or would he really listen to what I had to say? Did it matter?

No, I decided. Hope stirred my heart, the first ray of hope in these past two endless weeks that had seemed closer to two years. With nothing left to lose, everything poured out. In fits and starts before my voice became stronger.

His attention never wavered. He didn’t interrupt with questions. Not as I recapped the case from the beginning, the hints that told me where the investigation would lead. But guessing and hearing the words from the commissioner were apparently worlds apart from each other. And soon, a press conference would