Page 72 of Devious Lies

She looks good. Really good.

All I want to do is sink into her. But fucking Baby Girl is the last thing I need to do right now.

And it makes me so angry.

“Sit down, Mia.”

I am seated at my desk and facing her when I say her birth name, and she fumbles a step.

But she’s not a coward and despite what she thinks, she is not weak.

She straightens her shoulders and takes another step. Then another. Then she sits at one of the chairs in front of my desk.

I don’t want her there. I want her on my lap.

But I need answers.

And I am done being patient.

“Do you work for Sanchez?” I ask, acknowledging the big, ugly fucking elephant in the room.

“What?” she gasps, and I see confusion and then anger fill her gaze.

“You think I work for that piece of shit? I told you, I flirted with his son when I was barely twenty-one. He died before anything got serious, as you should fucking know!” she shouts.

I’m equal parts enraged that she mentions this youthful flirtation, and so fucking proud of her for yelling at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me who your father worked for when you told me your story earlier today?”

She looks at me like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, then she shakes her head.

“I don’t know, Luc. I mean, I was falling apart before. Mami was in the hospital, and I felt guilty about not knowing because I was at your place with you. Then you, you tricked me into saying I love you, and that stressed me out!”

Maria is shouting at me, and fuck, she looks so good.

Her tits are heaving, and I want to fall face first into them. Her eyes are shining, her hair is wild and floating around her shoulders, and the vibe she is giving off is pure fucking power and heat.

“I tried telling you everything, but it’s a fucking lot! I wasn’t lying about it, Luc,” she is still shouting.

This woman has the power to fucking wreck me.

Does she know it?

Does she care?

The idea she is playing me for a fool. That she is using me to get Sanchez closer to taking over the Vipers’ turf is driving me mad.

But I still want her so fucking badly, I can taste it.

She’ll make a fool of you, something dark whispers inside me. But I shut that thought right fucking down.

I stand and I wipe my hand across my desk, sending pens and papers flying.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know what you’re lying about if you keep things from me?!”

It’s my turn to be mad.

Fuck.

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