Summary

A hard worker perfumer Arella Rogue violated rules once and shared a passionate night with a strange. After seven years, some twisted fate brings them together, but her heart is still raw to gamble over her unrecompensed feelings. An optimistic and charismatic businessman, Skipper Linton’s plan crumbles like his heart the moment he meets the woman he once knew. Their scorching passion reignites, but there’s a slight problem—she’s forbidden fruit he shouldn’t bite. And one thing Arella learned from her past—it’s not to play with fire. But the more she pulls away, fate brings them closer. And one long-buried secret can change their lives forever. *************** SIN DE RELLA Seven Years SKIP *** I SCANNED the packed room, hoping to find an old mate as quickly as possible. Coming back to this place again was harder than I thought. My chest tightened when the door shut behind me—it felt like walking down the memory lane. The air was thick with the same smell of alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, chalk, and felt. A curvy woman passed by me with a tray of cold beers and a large bowl the size of basketball full of crisps, making my stomach grumble. At the dim-lit corner, a couple started to snog on their table and didn’t give a shit on the replayed football match on the flat TV screen bolted on the wall. What was wrong with you people? That was the real football for bloody sake! Our European football, and not some bunch of bollocks! The drinkers laughed boisterously beside the pool players who were carefully analyzing the angle of the ball on the fifth table. Across it, the two blokes slapped down their bets confidently as if they already presumed who was going to win. Then there he was—the familiar figure about my age, same built as I am, and an inch taller than my six feet two inches height. The light hanging above the table made the tattoo of Mjölnir’s symbol stand out on his right arm. He twisted his cue to the chalk square expertly. Bloody Shark. I inwardly smirked. He leaned on the table, then slid a cue shaft along the crook of his hand and hit the cue ball, knocking the balls into each other. A roar erupted around, gathering more audience around him. His opponent was a skin-head bulky guy, leaning across the table. He intently watched the balls rolling in front of him, waiting patiently for his turn, but I was sure it was never going to happen. I could bet a hundred quid on it that Shark was going to win, effortlessly. A low chuckle rumbled in my chest as I sat down on the wooden stool. Bottles of different types of alcohol lining behind the bar. A sign prohibiting the minors, a liquor license, and alco...