Page 205 of Sinful Desires
“Alexsei, give me your gun.”
Chapter
Forty-Nine
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
? Lao Tzu
Théo
Blood sprayed across my cheek as my fist cracked into his nose, the sound wet and raw. He let out a choked whimper, lips split and trembling, before spitting a thick stream of red onto the concrete.
“Last time,” I said, voice flat, hand already curling again. “Did Harper tell you to leak those fucking tapes?”
He shook his head quickly, terrified, shoulders jerking.
I exhaled once, then drove another punch into his face. Harder. His head snapped sideways with a grunt.
The lights in the underground garage flickered above us, buzzing like a dying fly. Volkov lit a cigar, shadows dancing over his face. He leaned back against the car, bored, while Lazzio scrolled on his phone.
Volkov didn’t look up. “You think he’s lying?”
I stared at the man on the floor, his chest heaving, face unrecognizable.
“Bastard followed her. Broke into her building. Got into her security system. And now the whole world has footage of one of the most private nights of her life. Without her knowing. Without her consent.”
I stepped closer, fists clenched.
“He’s not just lying. He’s fucking proud of it.”
The second I had looked away from my phone, I’d gone after him.
Travis fucking Kensley.
That bastard had moved fast. Slid through traffic like a fucking ghost. Thought he could make it to the airport, thought he’d vanish to Miami and hop a boat to Cuba like this was some bad spy movie.
I’d told Lazzio to get Scarlett somewhere safe.
And then I’d found him.
I slammed the brakes so hard the tires screamed against the pavement, grinding metal on asphalt. His car swerved. I didn’t wait. I threw my door open, stormed across, and ripped the door handle so hard it cracked in my hand.
He froze, panic already in his eyes.
Inside were stacks. Folders. Trash bags. A fucking shrine. Dozens of pictures.
Scarlett alone. Scarlett on stage. Scarlett in rehab. Scarlett in her bedroom.
Scarlett crying into her fucking pillow. Scarlett with me.
Every city. Every moment. He’d been watching her for years.
And filming her.
Without her fucking consent.
Recording things no one was supposed to see. Things that should’ve died in the dark.
