Page 132 of Sinful Lies

The sound of rushing water filled the space as he cranked the shower, steam billowing into the room. He held me upright, his arm locked around my waist like I might disappear.

My gloves went first, his fingers brushing mine as he peeled them away.

Then came the zipper on my dress.

The fabric fell, and so did the rest—bra, underwear, every barrier stripped until I stood bare under his gaze.

But it wasn’t lust in his eyes.

It wasn’t pity either.

It was something worse. Something that made my throat tighten with guilt.

It was worry.

Angelo Lazzio was worried about me.

He guided me into the shower, the warm water cascading over me in waves, rinsing away the salt, the sand, the night.

He didn’t look at me like I was broken.

He didn’t say a word about the wreckage I’d become.

His clothes were still on, soaked through as he stepped in with me.

I opened my mouth to protest, but his voice cut through the steam.

“Shh. Let me take care of you,amore.”

And I let him.

Not because I couldn’t fight, but because for the first time, I didn’t want to.

His hands moved over me—not rough, not rushed, just careful.

Each touch was gentle, washing away more than the ocean’s remnants.

It wasn’t control, or power, or even guilt.

It was care—jagged and unguarded, a blade wrapped in silk.

And it made me feel something I wanted to bury.

Angelo Lazzio.

My boss. My tormentor. My savior.

The man who had stolen my sister’s life, yet had saved mine three times over.

How could this man be my poison and cure in the same breath?

Chapter

Thirty-Two

“Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.”

?Oscar Wilde

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