The Book of Constantine

I bent over my crafting table to cut the last few pieces of leather. A slab of white-and-cream crocodile skin lay stretched out before me. My latest design was for a rom-com actress. We'd spent three months exchanging emails, going over every detail. I wanted her to love everything—the leather, the hardware, the stitching.

I always got lost in the design process.

Gathering the pieces I needed, I put the remaining leather away. I could use it for something else later. Everything had a place in my workshop. The scraps and hides were stored in a dresser-like cabinet with wide, flat drawers.

Everything was labeled.

I ran my finger across them.

Fuchsia Pebbled.

Forest Green Cowhide.

Neon Blue Rabbit Fur.

Using my label maker, I created a new one.

White & Cream Croc.

I smoothed the sticker across the front of the drawer before moving to the thread wall. Light brown, 0.8 millimeter. Perfect. Then I grabbed the rose-gold hardware. The inside of the bag would be lined with a dark brown cotton-blend fabric. Those pieces were already cut and waiting beside the sewing machine.

Katia, my half-sister and business partner, had prepared them earlier.

We started Cat & Kat Co. four years ago. We used portions of our trust funds to get it off the ground.

Now we made eight figures a year.

"Catori, we should move out," Katia said as she walked into our studio.

The studio sat between our bedrooms in our childhood home. The penthouse was located in Turnberry Towers, north on the Las Vegas Strip. Mom had purchased it before either of us were born.

"I don't know." I winced. "I love being here with Mom. We can't just leave her alone."

Katia sighed.

She'd been trying to convince me to move out with her for months. Truthfully, she was only still living here because of me.

Our half-brothers were away at boarding school. Archie and Amos were sixteen now. Their father and our mother had divorced years ago. Seven, I think.

The boys only came home for Thanksgiving.

Mom missed them terribly.

"Constantine!"

My mother's excited voice echoed from downstairs.

My entire body froze.

He was home.

No more counting down the days until Christmas. No more waiting all year for one summer week and a few holiday visits.

He was actually home.

I pushed my black hair over my shoulder.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Katia rolled her eyes. "Stop biting your lip and go fucking change. Now."

I looked down at the oversized Air Force shirt I was wearing and my tiny black shorts.

I wasn't even wearing a bra.

Panic hit me.

I rushed from the studio and into my bedroom, yanking open my dresser. Clothes stared back at me, but suddenly I couldn't decide on anything.

Voices drifted down the hallway.

Katia and Constantine.

They sounded close.

Way too close.

I ripped the shirt over my head and shoved it into a dresser drawer before grabbing a black tank top.

"Kitty Cat?"

I froze.

My heart nearly stopped.

Constantine stood in my doorway.

"Crap. Sorry." He immediately turned toward the wall. "I should've knocked."

His eyes swept down my body before he looked away.

Every inch of my skin burned.

I pulled the tank top down and walked toward him.

God, his ass should be illegal.

He wore light blue jeans and a fitted white dress shirt. Casual. Effortless.

Perfect.

I tapped his shoulder.

The moment he turned around, he scooped me into a hug.

My body instantly melted against him.

Constantine kissed the top of my head.

Everything inside me caught fire.

"Missed you, baby sis."

Oh God.

Please stop calling me that.

My feelings for him could only be described as obsessive.

I was completely screwed.

When he finally pulled away, every selfish part of me wanted to move right back into his arms.

Instead, I forced myself to stay where I was.

Now that I could really look at him, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

He was stunning.

Everything about him looked sculpted.

He'd been retired for six months and had finally moved back from Virginia. His blond hair was longer now, strands of gold falling across his forehead.

I definitely didn't miss the military buzz cut.

He brushed the hair back.

His arm flexed.

My stomach tightened.

Why did he do this to me?

Why couldn't he look at me the way I looked at him?

"Dinner!" Mom yelled from downstairs.

"Guess that's our cue." He grinned.

Dimples.

Those stupid, perfect dimples.

"Yep," I managed, my voice cracking.

Constantine started toward the door, then stopped.

He looked at me one more time.

The sudden intensity of his gaze made me feel exposed.

Like he could somehow see straight through me.

"When did you get that?"

I followed his finger.

The lotus flower tattoo on my inner thigh.

My stomach dropped.

"Last year," I said. "It's a cover-up."

His eyebrows pulled together.

"What was there before?"

Don't tell him.

Tell him.

Idiot, say something.

"Nothing important," I lied.

"Okay."

He shrugged, but he didn't look convinced.

Then he walked out.

The second he disappeared down the hallway, I collapsed onto my bed.

My lungs struggled to work.

He made me fall apart without even trying.

I should've told him the truth.

It's your name.

I'd had Constantine's name tattooed on my inner thigh.

Katia discovered it one afternoon, and everything exploded.

That was the day I finally confessed.

The day I told her how I felt about him.

We didn't speak for three months afterward.

"You can't be in love with our brother!" she'd screamed.

He's not my brother.

We're not biologically related.

None of that mattered to her.

Or to anyone else.

Downstairs, I could hear my family laughing.

Constantine's voice drifted up from the dining room.

Home.

He was finally home.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I could keep my secret.

Because the way he'd looked at me just now...

It felt dangerously close to suspicion.