Page 130 of Sinful Desires
“Out of the country. Berlin. Business trip.”
“Did you thank him before or after he shoved her in a fucking cage?”
“He’s the reason you’re out.”
No.He was the reason I’d spent seven days choking on concrete. Because I’d nearly killed him for taking her from me.
And now I was supposed to be grateful because he’d bailed me out a week later?
I would thank him. With a fucking bullet lodged between his eyes.
“He’s the reason she’s not.”
Lazzio dragged a hand down his face. “She’s a sick girl, LeRoy. Addict. Falling apart at the seams. This will do her good. Strip her down. Clean her image. Make her safe.” He put the car in drive. The engine kicked to life as we pulled away from the prison.
My fists clenched, the skin tight, knuckles bloodless.
The anger wasn’t hot, it was cold. Deep. The kind that made you patient. The kind that built altars out of vengeance.
As much as I wanted to shatter his teeth against the steering wheel, it wasn’t his face I wanted to ruin.
It was mine.
“I’d say your job’s officially done,” Lazzio muttered. “Must feel like a real kick in the balls having your client dragged out from under your nose and dumped in exile like a rabid dog. Don’t take it personally. Her own father made the call.”
“And he deserves a bullet for it.”
A low laugh scraped from his throat. “My uncle’s a bastard, no doubt. But let’s not kid ourselves. She was one body short of a murder charge. This wasn’t some PR tantrum. This was blood on the floor and cameras in her face. You want to kill him? Join the fucking line. But whatever he is, she still loves him. You put a bullet in that old man, she’ll never forgive you. Not now. Not fucking ever.”
I hate him so fucking much. But I love him too.
He’s not a big talker. His hands do the talking.
What if mine is to die, Théo?
“Anyway,” he said, reaching for the dash, “I’ll wire you the money. Call it payment for the bullet in your pride.”
“I don’t want your fucking money.”
“Then congratulations. Scarlett Harper is no longer your problem. You’re free.”
Free?There was no version of me that existed without her. I’d carry the weight of her name like a sentence carved into my bones.
If loving her was a prison, let me rot inside it. Because even the chains she’d put on me felt holier than the freedom anyone else could offer.
“I owe her my life, Lazzio. That debt doesn’t disappear because your coward uncle decided she was inconvenient.”
His eyes flicked toward me. “When?”
“Not your business.”
With another sigh, he pulled a white envelope from the dashboard and dropped it into my lap. “Figured you wouldn’t back down easily.”
Inside were papers, clearance forms, surveillance logs, and one photo.
Scarlett. Patient number 16482.
Her hair was shorter. Skin paler. Eyes wide and empty, frozen just beyond the camera flash. She looked like a ghost they hadn’t buried properly.
