Page 15 of Sinful Desires
Luke had been drinking half a bottle of something I didn’t recognize, maybe whiskey. Or tequila. He was laughing about something, but the words were already fuzzy, like they came from underwater.
I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t keep up.
Then came the knock. My bodyguard, Kyle.
Who I should’ve fired already because he’d nearly gotten me killed a few weeks prior when he’d “forgotten” to lock the back door at our so-called private concert in Miami. Fans had poured in, and one of them had brought a gun. Cute, right?
I’d almost gotten shot on stage, but plot twist: the guy’s weapon was empty.
Just like my security team’s heads.
He was followed by my assistant, eyes wide and panicked. I was late for the show.
So I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and stared at myself in the mirror like maybe I could fake my way back into being real.
I told Luke I’d see him after the show. He smiled.
God, Ithinkhe smiled, and mumbled something about showering first.
Then I’d left.
And that had been the last time I saw him alive. I hadn’t even said goodbye.
“Cocaine.” The word burned like acid on my father’s tongue.
“Of course it was cocaine.” He scoffed, the disgust dripping off each syllable, like the very idea of it made him sick. “Why not make your grand fall from grace just a little more poetic?”
A sob tore from my throat. “I was exhausted. I—I just needed?—”
He cut me off with an exhale, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding as if he were holding something far uglier behind them. I could see the storm brewing in his eyes, and Iknewit was only going to get worse.
“My daughter, the shining star,” he spat, his voice like gravel. “Sold-out stadiums, screaming fans, and a bag of blow backstage. Beautiful. You’refuckingperfect.”
I was choking on the guilt, on the humiliation, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I promise it was just this one time! I won’t ever?—”
“So, this is it, huh?” His voice rose. “This is the grand return of the prodigal daughter? My girl was lost, and now she’s found, halle-fucking-lujah?”
His eyes were burning holes into me. Every second felt like a countdown, tense and breathless, ready to break me open.
And then the bomb exploded.
“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?” he roared.
In a blind, raging fury, he reached for one of my vintage, pure-gold candlesticks, the ones that had been passed down for generations, the ones that meant more to me than anything.
He wrenched it from the table and threw it with all the force he had. It smashed against the glass coffee table, the impact sending it shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, the sound deafening as the delicate gold cracked and split.
But that wasn’t enough.
He made his way to the dining table, and with one sweeping motion, he shoved every single vase of flowers to the floor. The vases shattered upon impact, water spilling everywhere, soaking the rugs as petals fluttered down like falling confetti. Glass and broken flowers littered the floor.
Angelo, sensing the danger, quickly stepped in front of me, his body blocking the fury that radiated from my father. He knew all too well the consequences of my father’s wrath, as he’d witnessed it all before.
“Dad, please?…” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper.
He whirled around, his breath heavy. “Don’t fuckingDadme!” he snarled, his voice jagged. “I’m going to fix this mess, but from this moment forward, I don’teverwant to hear the sound of my fucking name anddead bodyin the same sentence again! Do you hear me?”
With one last look, he’d turned and stormed out of my condo without a glance back.
