Page 23 of Sinful Desires
A private concert. The illusion of philanthropy with front-row seats.
Meanwhile, real fans camped outside the building, pressed up against barricades in the cold, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone who might sing forthemsomeday.
I was slotted for two ballads. The first: “Hate the Way I Live.”
I had written that one alone in a Tokyo hotel room on New Year’s Eve, drunk on overpriced whiskey and the kind of silence that makes your ribs ache. It was a song about wanting another version of yourself.
The second: “Butterfly.”
That one was for the ghosts. The ones who’d left too fast, too soon, too goddamn permanently. It was about hoping you’d rise high enough one day to touch where they were, even if it was just for a second.
That song was for Luke.
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “I know, babe, but knowing you, if some idiot in the crowd evenlooksat you the wrong way, you’ll leap off the stage like a spider monkey and give them a master class in humiliation. So, for once in your life, act like you have a filter, yeah?”
A knock came before I could retort. “Yes?”
The door creaked open, just a few inches. Enough to feel the air shift, like the temperature had dropped by a few degrees. A chill crawled under my skin, making my spine stiffen.
Then camehisvoice, low, rough around the edges. “Ready, Miss Harper?”
Victoria froze, fingers still on my dress. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She smirked, because sheknew.
She knew how much I wanted to throttle that man with one of the belts he probably alphabetized by designer.
I knew exactly how Théo LeRoy had been made.
God hadn’t crafted him with love. He’d thrown him together with leftover arrogance, cold French sarcasm, and just enough muscle to make you hate how hot he looked while he was ruining your life.
My personal war with him really started two days ago when he’d changed the security passcode tomyapartment without telling me.
Why? Because I’d invited an old flame over.
Yes, he’d dressed up as a plumber. Yes, we were going tofix a few things. And no, I hadn’t planned on being celibate that day.
Alexsei had said, verbatim, “No sex.”
But surely making out fell into a grey area, right?
Wrong.
So very,painfullywrong.
LeRoy, who apparently had the instincts of a bloodhound and the moral compass of a priest with a God complex, had decided to knock on my bedroom door just toremindme I had a meeting. Rookie mistake.
“Wait a second!” I shouted a little too loudly, a little too breathlessly.
He’d opened that door like it was a SWAT raid. I didn’t even have time to explain before his eyes darkened when they landed next to me.
“Close your eyes for me, sweetheart.”
For some unknown fucking reason, I obeyed him. My body moved before my brain could catch up.
One second, my fake plumber was next to me with his cheap cologne and false confidence. The next, LeRoy had painted me in his blood.
Gunshot.
Just one.
