Page 63 of Heartless Sinner

I’m not usually caught up in sentiment, but I can see how much my payment of the debt means to her. “You’re welcome.”

“So, um… I guess I’m going back to New York sooner than I thought.”

“Yes, you are.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Her voice is tentative, soft, and searching.

“Later. We’ll go through the fine print once we’re home.”

“Home?” She says the word like she’s testing it for the first time.

“Home.”

She holds my gaze and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people here.

“Let’s go, bellezza.” I hold out my hand to take hers and she gives it to me.

As we walk toward the jet, deep satisfaction settles in my chest.

This is just the beginning and yet I want more.

She’s mine now.

Chapter Fifteen

Scarlett

I stand in the middle of Micah’s bedroom utterly awestruck.

He had to go to a business meeting in Manhattan, so when we landed, he left me in the care of his guards while he headed out to work at his family’s multibillion-dollar company.

I came here to this … palace in the Hamptons which sprawls across Billionaire Row, a place I’ve only heard about on TV and magazines.

Now I’m here in a home infused with so much opulence and wealth it already makes my old life feel like a distant memory.

It couldn’t have been yesterday that I was scrubbing toilets and cleaning the tables in the diner. It couldn’t have been yesterday that I was planning to run for my life with my father.

But it was.

I gaze ahead at the floor-to-ceiling window stretching across the wall. It offers a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean as the waves crash against the private beach.

I could happily stare at this scenery forever.

I’ve been like this since I got here and the head maid gave me the tour of the grand estate.

Everything is beautiful, including this bedroom.

Everything in here screams Micah. From the imposing black marble fireplace to the hand-carved mahogany bed frame that dominates the space.

The California-king sized bed is dressed in charcoal silk sheets, and modern art pieces accent the walls with their sharp lines and bold shapes reflecting my future husband's tastes.

My fingers trace the sleek edge of his dresser, taking in the contrast between the masculine leather chair in the corner and the delicate crystal chandelier above.

The walk-in closet to my right has been transformed into what looks like a designer boutique, and even the air smells like him.

I feel like I’m floating around in a dream. I keep wondering when I’m going to wake up.

I don’t want to wake from this.

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