Page 39 of Sinful Lies

My fingers itch to touch her, to trace the soft skin of her bare shoulders, to sink into her hair as I pull her mouth against mine.

I know I have no business feeling such things, but how can I not when she looks likethat.

Is this how my father felt when he watched my mother walk down the aisle? Did he feel a rush of emotion so intense that he thought his heart might explode?

Perhaps… But then somewhere down the line, the vows that he exchanged became nothing more than empty promises.

I ball my hands into fists at the thought.

Though is that any different than what Zara and I are about to do? Offer each other empty promises that we’ll break the moment we’re no longer useful to one another?

Am I no better than my father?

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to keep my expression one of pure joy as Zara approaches me.

“We’re getting married,” she whispers, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

“We sure are.” I take her hand, squeezing it tightly.

The thin,platinum wedding band feels foreign on my finger. Every time I look down at it, all I can picture is my father, and I want to tear the thing off and toss it in the Hudson.

The thought of his betrayal has such rage coursing through my body that no amount of alcohol is going to numb me.

Trust me, I’ve tried.

The reception is in full swing, with most of the guests occupying the dancefloor. I spot Danil and Emily getting a little too close for comfort, but it seems Alexei has it covered.

I watch my older brother storm over, carving a paththrough the swaying bodies, and practically drag Danil away by the collar of his shirt as if he’s no better than a horny teenager.

I huff a laugh at the sight.

Though I suppose when I was a dumb teenager getting too close to girls I had no business getting to know, my father was the one dragging me away by the collar, instilling lessons in me about morals that it seems he had no problem ignoring himself.

I grind my teeth as I fiddle with the ring on my finger.

“Another,” I set my empty glass down in front of the bartender.

I must be at least six glasses of vodka deep into the reception by the time that Zara approaches me.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Her face is flushed from dancing with Bianca and a few stray strands of hair stick to her forehead.

“Why do you say that?” I lean against the bar.

“Because you’ve had a look on your face ever since I slid that ring onto your finger.”

I flinch, twirling my empty class on the bar top.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I reach for my bowtie and pull it free, letting it hang around my neck as I undo the top few buttons on my dress shirt.

“What’s going on, Dimitri?” She places her hands on her hips.

My eyes flick over her body, and I have to bite back a groan at the sight of those luscious curves that are only emphasized by her dress.

“Nothing.” I run my hand through my hair.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. Are you…do you regret what we did?” she whispers, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows.

Now I feel like a bastard for making her feel like this.

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