Page 107 of Sinful Desires
Bury her career next to Luke. Both are dead, and only one mattered.
I kept reading, even after the phone burned in my hand and my throat had closed. I wasn’t sure what I wanted—just someone, anyone, who didn’t want me dead.
It all got too loud. My chest felt too tight.
“N-No,” I choked out, lips shaking so hard it barely came out.
I got up quickly, stumbling to the bathroom, and dropped to my knees. My stomach flipped inside out as I threw up into the toilet.
Angelo followed me and held my hair back with one hand, rubbing slow circles on my back with the other.
“Breathe, Scarlett,” he said.
That’s all he said.
By the time we came back to the living room, my legs barely worked. I could still feel them trembling under me. Angelo and I sat down without a word.
The two strangers from my label sat stiffly on the couch, both of them in suits, laptops open. Crisis PR.
The television was switched to the news. A blonde woman with a slick ponytail filled the screen, her voice crisp and rehearsed. The headline at the bottom read:Scarlett Harper: America’s Pop Princess, or Cold-Blooded Killer?
Behind me, my father let out a low, bitter laugh. “Luke’s family won’t take the money,” he said. “His parents. They say they want a fair trial.” His voice was calm, almost bored, but I knew that sound. He was trying not to crack his own teeth from the anger building under his tongue.
I didn’t move. I didn’t lift my head.
“Scarlett,” Angelo started, “are you sure you?—”
“If you ask me again,” I said, barely able to speak, “if you ask me one more time, Lazzio, I swear to God, I’ll scream.”
The tears kept falling. Quiet. Constant. My breaths came through clenched teeth, the taste of salt and metal thick in my mouth. I wanted to disappear. Shrink so far into myself I couldn’t be seen.
“This proves nothing,” I said. My voice was barely there. “The video proves nothing.”
The chair scraped back. Then came the sound. His fist hit the table so hard I jumped.
“Nothing?” he barked. “You were the only one with him in the room. We see him enter after you. You come out alone. That’s it. That’s the story. It’s your fucking word against the whole world.”
My throat closed.
“The autopsy said overdose,” he went on. “But people are saying it wasyouwho gave him the drugs.”
“I didn’t,” I said, but it was useless. The words came out broken, almost soundless. “I didn’t give him anything.”
He stared at me like he didn’t know what to believe anymore.
And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I did either.
“We need something to shift the focus off you,” my father said, his voice sharper now. “Anything. A headline. A secret. Something people didn’t know about him. His past, his relationships, something that’ll grab attention. What was the biggest thing Luke Conrad was hiding, Scarlett?”
I shook my head, choking on the sob that broke out before I could stop it.
“No. There wasn’t anything. He was going to come out publicly, that’s all. He was sweet. Gentle. There was nothing dark about him.” My voice cracked. My hands were shaking. “He was my friend.”
My father scoffed. “A friend you left cold and dead on a hotel floor, Scarlett.”
Angelo’s phone buzzed. The two label rats next to him didn’t even look up, just kept tapping on their laptops like vultures recording the downfall.
He stood, took the call, and stepped out of my condo.
