the treasure room of an old temple and saw the massive pile of gold in the center. I keep myself at a bit of a distance from him but never let him out of my sight, until at last Beckett excuses himself.
Good. Now I can follow him.
I’m not going to go visible, walk right up to him and say, “Hi, I’m a fallen angel, and I’m here to win you over to the side of Heaven.” I’ve been accused of being naive at times, but I’m not that naive. I need to tail him, keep an eye on him, and find out what his weak points are.
After all, sins aren’t the same as demons, or “the corrupted” as we usually call them. Unlike the corrupted, the sins aren’t wholly bad. Right? There must be something I can do or say that will bring him over to our side.
I just have to figure out what it is.
Beckett does a few final handshakes before heading for the exit. Someone brings him his coat, and he barely even breaks stride as he slips it on.
Cool wind brushes my cheeks as I step outside after the tall, imposing man. A valet is already hurrying to bring his car around, and a moment later, Beckett slips inside the sleek black vehicle and drives away.
Unseen, I unfurl my wings and follow.
Chapter Five
Trinity
Beckett drives straight to his home, a massive penthouse that takes up the entire top floor of a luxury building in Manhattan.
It’s hard to slip past the doorman and the guy at the front desk in the lobby, since doors and elevators opening by themselves would raise suspicion, but I manage it by following very closely behind Beckett—so close that I can smell the musky, slightly spicy scent of his cologne. I hold my breath, resisting the urge to suck more of that alluring smell into my nostrils.
Oh, frick, I hope he can’t smell me. What do I even smell like? Do angels have smells?
Gah! Focus, Trinity!
As soon as the elevator doors close behind us, I take a step away from him, keeping my movements silent as I clutch my small bag to my chest. I need a little distance. For some reason, it’s hard to think when I’m standing that close to him.
On the ride up, he looks at his phone the entire time, scrolling through his feed, keeping tabs on business rivals, and answering emails. It’s late on a Friday night, and most people are relaxing at home or partying, but greed never rests and neither does Beckett.
The elevator dings, and I gape as I realize it opens right into his apartment. He steps through the doors, and I hurry to follow so I don’t get trapped inside the elevator. Only then do I allow myself a moment to gawk at the luxury and opulence that surrounds me.
Whoa. So this is what Greed lives like.
I can feel a tiny spike of avarice inside my own veins, a yearning for something so beautiful and pristine, calming in its perfect beauty.
Then I shake my head to clear it. Is Greed’s power rubbing off on me? Are a few minutes trapped in an elevator with him enough to sway me toward his particular sin?
If so, he’s even more powerful than I thought.
Pulling my gaze away from the luxurious surroundings, I focus my attention back on my target. I’m here to learn as much as I can about this man, to observe him in his natural element and try to spot a chink in his armor before I make my approach.
But I can’t let myself get too close.
For the next week, I tail Beckett like an invisible shadow, a burr he doesn’t feel clinging to him.
And for the entire week that I watch him, it feels like I don’t see a single emotion out of him. He’s like a machine, a robot programmed to do only one thing.
The man is constantly angling and maneuvering to earn more money. Whoever says CEOs don’t do any work might be right, but not where Beckett’s concerned. He’s barking into his phone at all hours of the day, calling people in China and Japan, sending emails to London and Russia, organizing meetings with investors all over the world. Cutting deals and taking over other companies. He’s got several politicians in his pocket too.
But the craziest part is, he almost doesn’t seem to care about it. He’s ruthless, but he’s also… removed. When business deals fall through, he just moves on to