I lead her toward the stairs that will take us to the helipad. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder, to see the shock on my mother’s face that I’m not caving to her demands, but I have no desire to look backward.

Today is all about moving forward—to my future with Whitney.

Fifty-Five

Whitney

I have no idea how long we’ve been in the chopper, and I still have no idea where we’re going other than it’s called Blue House. I don’t exactly want to presume about the significance of the name either. Honestly, right now, it doesn’t matter to me where we go.

Lincoln loves me.

I try to use that to salve the ache in my heart over the rift I’ve caused between him and his mother.

I will find a way to fix it, I promise myself. Only then can I allow myself to smile and feel the joy surging in my soul.

Lincoln loves me.

He squeezes my hand from the seat beside me as we fly toward the ocean and dozens of islands. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going, but he speaks first.

“I hope you like whale watching, because the view of the straits of San Juan is incredible from the house.”

“You own a house in Washington?”

He smiles wider. “I own an island in Washington. The house is totally self-sufficient. Impossible for the press to get to unless they have a boat or a chopper.”

“Of course you own a freaking island.” I can’t stop myself from laughing. “It sounds like paradise.”

“It is, and we’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

“You didn’t pack anything.”

“I have all I need already there. It’s where I go when I need to get away from everything and everyone. You’re going to love it. No venues. No hotel rooms. Just experiences you’ll never forget.”

Lincoln’s phone vibrates between us, but he shoves it in his pocket without looking at it.

I lose myself in the view of the ocean and the islands. Completely breathtaking.

True to his word, we touch down on a helipad a half hour later, and my phone vibrates in my purse. I pull it out and see several missed calls and text notifications.

Lincoln pulls out his phone when it vibrates again. “Sometimes I wish this place didn’t have cell service,” he says, glancing down at his phone. “It’s my brother. I don’t even want to answer it.”

“My aunt called three times.” I lift my gaze to Lincoln, and a horrible premonition washes over me. “Maybe you should answer it.”

Lincoln’s expression turns grim as he taps the screen to accept the call on speakerphone. “What do you need, Harrison?”

“You finally did it. You fucking killed her.”

Lincoln’s face pales. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Mother was pronounced dead at the hospital a half hour ago. Heart attack. They couldn’t resuscitate her. You fucking killed her. I hope you’re happy.”

Keep reading for Whitney and Lincoln’s jaw-dropping conclusion in Reveling in Sin.