Page 22 of Sinful Desires
“That’s kind of a record, Scar.”
I opened my mouth to say something cruel, but all I could do was blink.
He wasn’t wrong. I hated how not wrong he was.
Alexsei disappeared into the hallway, laughing to himself, leaving me with my notebook, my paranoia, and a silence that pressed against my chest.
The kind of silence that knows your name.
I stared at the closed door. Ten steps away, a man who had killed with his hands was now tasked with keeping me alive.
And somehow, that terrified me less than the idea of being alone with myself.
Chapter
Eight
“You can only be young once. But you can always be immature.”
?Pat Monahan
Scarlett
I winced as Victoria yanked the black sequin corset tighter, the laces cutting into my ribs. My breath vanished. I gripped the makeup table, nails biting into the wood.
Excited screams bled through the walls. Still, somehow, they found their way under my skin.
Victoria tied the final knot. The makeup artist swooped in, brushing over whatever soul I had left. The hairstylist scorched every strand straight.
“God, you look perfect,” Victoria chirped.
On the outside, maybe I did. But inside, I was a husk. No sleep, no strength—just the ache for a drink.
Or ten.
It’s funny how thrilling it used to be having all these people at my beck and call, running around like circus monkeys, ensuringeverything was flawless. A flick of my finger, a murmur of my voice, and I had my own army, ready to obey.
But now? The power felt more like a game that had grown stale, like I was trapped in a never-ending loop of demands, with no one daring to say no.
I used to test them just for fun. I’d once asked for a blueberry muffin from Bagels & Jo in Manhattan?…?while shooting with Vogue in Brooklyn. It was ridiculous. Yet, they still did it.
Every. Single. Time.
It was almost too easy. The world was my playground, and I didn’t even have to be awake for it. That was the trick. But now? Everything just felt empty.
It wasn’t about the power of getting whatever I wanted with the snap of my fingers. All those little demands that once made me feel like I was in control now just reminded me how little I actually had left in me.
“Okay, remember, this is a Gala for global warming. Support, awareness, and a lot of kids running around. No middle fingers, no cursing, and definitely no explicit stuff, got it?”
I rolled my eyes as someone attached the in-ear monitor around my waist, adjusting the wires before popping the small earpiece into my ear.
“Vic, I got it,” I said, tugging on the hem of my dress. “Alexsei already gave me the kindergarten talk. Besides, I’m only doing two songs, and they’re thevery good girlones.”
The Gregs, America’s favorite hypocrites, were hosting tonight’s glitter-drenched guilt trip. One of the richest families in the West, thanks to their charming little oil empire, had decided to pretend they gave a damn about global warming.
Cute, coming from a dynasty whose fortune was slowly roasting the planet.
Tonight, an army of international artists were performing for free. Not because they cared, but because the Gala ticketswere going for a small fortune, and rich peoplelovedpaying obscene amounts of money to feel morally superior in silk and champagne.
