Page 83 of My Sweetest Temptation

“A kiss?”

“Yes, just one kiss,” I confirmed, unable to look away from her perfectly shaped cupid’s bow lips, imagining sinking my teeth into them until her skin broke and I licked the blood with my tongue. “But be warned that I always know when someone is lying.”

“Or you might just be the best sweet-talker,” she shot back.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

We stared at each other, and after a minute, she gave in. “Okay. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re my boss’s boss.”

“Good,” I said, my voice low and teasing. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A proud smile spread across my face. “Ladies first.”

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that sent a rush of warmth through my dick, and I suppressed a groan.

“Okay, um...I have a twin brother, I play the violin, and I love candy.”

Since Luca had already spilled all the juicy details I needed to know about my little angel, I realized I already knew the answers. Ask me if I gave a shit. I never said I played fair.

“You don’t have a twin brother.”

Her jaw dropped, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. I couldn’t hold back a genuine laugh, a sound that felt foreign. Fuck, I hadn’t laughed like this in a long ass time.

“You cheated!” she hissed in a whisper.

“Me? Cheat?” I placed a hand dramatically over my heart, shaking my head. “I’m no cheat. I just know you.”

“You don’t know me like you think you do,” she countered with a hint of challenge in her tone. I shrugged, unfazed.

“My turn,” I said, leaning in slightly. “I lost my virginity when I was thirteen, I play the piano, and I’ve killed at least one man.” She stared at me as if attempting to delve into my thoughts and sift out which statement was false. Even though none of them were a lie, I was curious to see where her mind wandered.

“Um,” she started, her brow furrowing in thought, “losing your virginity at thirteen is disturbing, and I hope it’s not true. Playing the piano? Yes, I can see it. But killing a man? Now that’s just a little too... dramatic.”

I chuckled softly, savoring how her eyes lit up when she looked at me as if my presence comforted her.

“So, would you take someone’s life?” she asked suddenly, as if she’d been wrestling with the question for some time.

“If the punishment fits the crime,” I replied without hesitation. She tilted her head, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of the breadbasket before she selected a piece, dipping it into the olive oil.

“You ever think about why someone would take another’s life?” she asked, taking a deliberate bite, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Why do you ask?” I countered, caught off guard by her question.

“I’ve always wondered what could push someone to that point, to take another’s life without a second thought,” she said, her gaze drifting as if she’s lost in a memory. I take a measured sip of my wine, letting the rich flavors linger on my tongue as I process her words.

“There are countless reasons,” I murmured. “Desperation, betrayal, a thirst for power, or no reason at all.”

She winced at my bluntness, a flicker of pain crossing her features. “So, you’re saying if they acted under orders, that justifies it somehow?”

“I suppose,” I replied, suspicious of where this conversation was heading. Had she figured out who I was? Or what I’d done?

“Do they ever look back? Do they have regrets?” she pressed, her voice tinged with a sorrow that pulled at my heart. “Do they ever realize the weight of what they’ve done? The damage they left behind?”

I paused, contemplating her question. “I can’t answer that,” I answered. “But people are so consumed by their pain and anger that they can’t see beyond it.” Winter nodded, her jaw tightening.

“And what about revenge?” she asked, her eyes searching mine, hers filled with an unsettling sadness. “That’s another reason people kill, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged. Before I could delve into her thoughts and why she was asking these questions, our waiter arrived with our meals, the clatter of plates momentarily breaking the tension.

We ate silently, her earlier words echoing like a haunting melody in my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that darkness lurked within her, a shadow of something she’d experienced or witnessed.

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