Page 94 of Sinful Games

STOP IT!

Lucifer:

See youbothlater. Don’t be late. ;)

“Are you guys … sexting?” Valeria’s eyebrows shot up with a cheeky grin.

I nearly choked on my own spit. “What? No way! Gross. Are you out of your mind?”

She laughed and leaned in with a knowing smirk. “When a girl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree from her phone, it usually means she’s sexting.”

I shot her a glare and marched to the door, yanking it open. “Leave me alone, you traitor! Enjoy your 20k!”

“Will do! And good luck with yourhubby!”

“Stop calling him that!” I slammed the door, but not before hearing her muffled giggles.

Jesus, is it too much to ask for a little peace in this crazy world?

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

“When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.”

?Laurie Halse Anderson

Alexsei

“What kind of party is this?” Caia asked as we pulled up to the mansion.

Dozens of cars were already parked, and people streamed into the grand building, decked out in extravagant dresses and suits.

I adjusted my black tie. “A gala for the orphans.”

Caia scoffed, applying her lipstick. “Rich people don’t care about orphans. It’s all for show.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I stepped out and made my way around to open her door, offering a hand to help herout. “But I was invited, and what better way to introduce my wife than at a gala?”

She rolled her eyes and let go of my hand, smoothing down her long, corseted, shimmery gold dress. Her corset barely covered her chest, and she wore long black gloves, her hair straight and flowing down to her lower back.

Fuckin’ hell.

I stared at her, already feeling my blood rush to my dick.

“Are you going to tell them you forced me to marry you, or is that top-secret information?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My little witch was still thoroughly annoyed with me.

“Let’s keep that between us, huh?” I winked and offered her my arm, which she begrudgingly took as we headed toward the entrance.

The moment we passed through the immense wooden doors, attendants swinging them open, the sounds of an orchestra—violins, pianos—filled the air.

With Caia on my arm, we strolled inside. I nodded at a few acquaintances while she smiled politely at everyone, her cheeks flushing with every compliment thrown her way.

“Champagne, sir?” A waiter approached, offering glasses on a tray.

I accepted one and offered it to Caia, but she declined.

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