Page 59 of Sinful Desires
I cleared my throat. Three heads turned like I’d flipped a switch.
Francesca blinked, then smiled. Her fingers toyed with a pearl earring, lips parting slightly. Kiara’s eyes dipped, lingering where they shouldn’t. She smiled too, slow and smug, biting the edge of her lip like she’d just remembered something filthy.
“LeRoy,” Lucius said, smooth as poison. “Thought you were off to France for the holidays.”
Translation:Why the fuck are you still here?
“Canceled,” I said flatly.
He nodded once. A beat too long. “Well. Make yourself comfortable. No need to follow us, the estate is safe.”
Then the maid appeared. Petite frame, black dress hugging every curve. Hair slicked back into a high ponytail, lips painted fire-engine red.
“Georgina,” Lucius added, gesturing toward her, “will show you to your room.”
She looked up at me and stopped. Blinked. Cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “This way, sir.”
Thesircame out breathy.
I didn’t move. Scarlett hadn’t either. Still rooted there, her arms crossed, eyes distant. The only woman in the room not trying to get a reaction out of me, and the only one I actually gave a shit about.
They left, Francesca’s perfume clinging to the air as she passed. Kiara gave me one last slow glance before following.
Scarlett turned and took the stairs quickly, but at the top, she paused and looked back once. Not long. Not soft. Just enough to make it feel like a punishment. Then she disappeared.
“Bring me to the security room, Georgina.”
If I was stuck here, I’d make myself useful. No point breathing Harper air blindly.
The Lazzios were two houses over. I already had their full camera grid on my laptop. If shit went sideways, I’d be there before anyone finished screaming.
The maid smiled like she wanted my attention.
She didn’t know I’d already given it away.
Chapter
Eighteen
“I envy people that know love.That have someone who takes them as they are.”
? Jess C Scott
Scarlett
“Are you high?” Kiara whispered, leaning in close as I slumped against the table, hiding a hiccup behind the back of my hand.
I’d gracefully gotten through the performance.
The second it ended, everyone clapped as I slipped out into the hallway, stole the champagne bucket off a tray, and drank the whole bottle alone behind some ten-thousand-dollar curtain.
My heels were off. My hands shook.
And when my mouth had finally gone numb, I stood, straightened my dress, and walked into that dining room like nothing had happened.
What had LeRoy said?
Brat or drunk.
