Page 121 of Sinful Desires
I stared. “Nicholas wants to go clubbing because his cat hurt Matthew’s feelings?”
“Yes,” she said without blinking. “And since we’re already dealing with one gay crisis and one fake relationship, why not kill two birds with one Chanel clutch? Go out, party, get some cute paparazzi shots for the press. It’ll help your image, and people will finally believe he’s actuallythe one.”
I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face. “This is what I get for agreeing to a PR romance with a man who owns more skincare than I do.”
“Oh, and that’s not it,” Victoria said with a laugh, the kind that avoided eye contact. I’d known her for years. That fake little laugh, the way her lashes fluttered—it only meant one thing.
She knew something. And she was afraid I’d flip.
I lowered the pillow and narrowed my eyes. “What, Vic?”
She giggled nervously, busy pretending to fold my dress into its garment bag. “I think you need to see it yourself, but?…?just so you know, it was Angelo’s idea.”
“Tu, figlio di puttana!”
The space looked more like a luxury vault than a workplace—floor-to-ceiling glass cases lined the walls, displaying priceless Lazzio artifacts under soft spotlights. Ancient Roman coins. Handwritten opera scores. A gold-plated violin in a sealed case like it had just been rescued from God himself.
And dead center in all that cultured history? Angelo, behind his mahogany desk, with Jade straddling his lap. Her fingers were curled around his tie. His mouth was an inch from hers.
They both jumped, but Angelo’s surprise vanished fast, replaced by an eye roll.
Jade just smiled wider. “Scarlett! Oh my god?—”
“Sorry, Jadie. Let me kill your husband first, then we can catch up.”
She laughed and slid off his lap with a practiced little sway, while he held on to her hand.
“He’s all yours,” she said, brushing nonexistent lint from her dress.
Angelo leaned back in his chair. “Well,grazie,amore,” he said dryly. “Didn’t realize my own wife would put a hit out on me,again.”
Jade giggled, grabbed his chin, and dropped a kiss on his mouth before sauntering out of the room.
“It better be fucking important if you’re making my wife leave, Scar.”
I smiled, slow and poisonous, arms crossing like I needed them to hold the rest of me back. “Oh, it is. I just came to check something. You’re not only a backstabbing piece of shit, Angelo—you’re a full-blown sadist now, too?”
He scratched the side of his face, unbothered. “Ah. You heard about LeRoy.”
I laughed once. No humor. Just teeth.
“Heard? I nearly threw a chair through a window, if that counts. Tell me—what the actual fuck were you thinking? Out of every security firm, every man on payroll, hell, everystranger off the damn street—you pickedhim? Again?” I took a step forward, my voice dropping. “Do you hate me that much? Or are you just trying to finish what my father started?”
Angelo let out a heavy sigh, the kind meant to sound tired and wise, but all I heard was guilt dressing itself up in patience. He got up from his chair, circled the desk and leaned against it, arms crossed.
“I didn’t know your father was going to fucking exile you, Scarlett,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I had an urgent call from China, took it, and when I came back, no one was there. I assumed he took you to the Hamptons. Or maybe his condo in Manhattan. Not?…” He looked away. “Not fucking Minnesota.”
I scoffed, folding my arms tighter so I didn’t reach for something to throw.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that version. You were clueless, shocked, heartbroken. Save it.” I stepped in close. “What I care about is whyLeRoy? Whyhim? Inmyplace? The man fucking knew what my father was planning. And now I’m supposed to let him waltz back into my life, onto my team, like none of it fucking happened?”
Angelo went quiet, jaw clenched, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
He looked at me for a long second. “I’m indebted to him.”
“Indebted?”
“He saved my life.”
