Page 61 of Sinful Desires
“La famiglia,” they all echoed, crystal kissing crystal.
Next to me, Jade started fidgeting, her hands twitching in her lap.
I was about to ask if she was okay, but before I could, Angelo cut in with something about gifts for the kids and a holiday show the staff had put together.
Christmas magic, or whatever.
My head was too fuzzy to follow.
We all got up like good little guests and filed out. I slipped away toward the front entrance, already done with the night, ready to crawl back into something dark and quiet.
I slumped into the back seat, barely managing the words, “Take me home.”
When we pulled up to the house, the driver opened the door. I stepped out slowly, the air colder now, or maybe I was just feeling it for once. I headed inside, slinging my coat carelessly on the rack, the house quiet now. The staff must’ve gone home.
I stopped under the chandelier, the one imported from somewhere expensive and sun-drenched. Greece, I think.
I leaned against the wall as my balance tipped slightly. Slipping off my heels, I let them drop to the marble with a soft thud.
Barefoot, I crossed the foyer, wandered into the living room, and cracked one of the windows just enough to let the cold December air in. It slid across my skin, salt bitten and sharp, curling at my legs as I moved.
I walked out to the pool. The water was still, dark, holding the moon inside it like a secret.
There had always been something about water. The way it cradled you, swallowed you whole, then spit you back out as someone slightly different. Like grief, like love. It never let you leave untouched.
Sometimes I thought I must’ve been a mermaid in some other life. Or maybe just a girl who wanted to drown quietly without anyone noticing.
I padded closer to the pool, wobbling slightly as the tiles shifted under my feet.
I stopped just shy of the edge, my shadow rippling across the water like it was drunk too.
“Planning to drown again?”
I screamed. Actuallyscreamed. A loud, embarrassing, full-body kind of scream.
I nearly tripped into the pool. A hand yanked the back of my dress before I could make a splash, dragging me upright as my heart tried to punch its way out of my chest.
“Jesus Christ,” I snapped. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I turned and forgot how to breathe.
LeRoy stood there, glistening like sin incarnate. His skin was flushed, sweat trailing over every inch of him like it knew exactly where to go. Ink crawled across his arms, dipped into his ribs, and wrapped around his collarbone. There was one just above his hip, small and cruel, right where the line of hair disappeared into his waistband.
A crescent moon.
I blinked. Then blinked again.
Apparently tonight wasn’t done trying to ruin me.
The muscles on his stomach flexed as he reached for a towel, veins in his forearms rising like a warning. His pants hung low, clinging to his hips in a way that felt illegal.
And for a second, just one reckless, champagne-laced second, I wanted to touch him. Just to see if he was real, or if my drunk brain had started inventing him.
“What is it with you and water?” he asked, still catching his breath, voice rough enough to scrape.
His chest rose too fast. His knuckles flexed at his sides, just once. It passed in a blink, but I saw it. Like the sight of the pool had dragged something ugly to the surface.
He scrubbed the towel across his face then down his chest, slow and careless. His stomach rose and fell with each breath, the muscles tight and slick, as if the night itself was trying to cool him down and was failing miserably.
