Page 20 of Sinful Desires
A few days ago, after my bodyguard Christian had flushed my stash like a priest on a mission, I’d slapped him, then fired him.
I didn’t do betrayal, especially not when it came dressed as self-righteous concern.
Right after that, Alexsei, fresh from rekindling his love life and renewing vows with Caia in a private New York chapel like some mobbed-up Nicholas Sparks character, had decided it was time to parent me again.
My options were rehab, the convent, or behave like a good little girl under the watchful eye of a new bodyguard. No more men, no drugs, and no distractions. Just me, myself, and every ugly thought I’d been drowning for years.
So, I’d complied.Reluctantly.
And it had been days now of staring my demons dead in the face—sober, raw, and with nowhere left to run.
Hell, honestly.
And then, a week ago, Théo LeRoy had walked into my life.
“Please, have a seat,” Alexsei had said casually, as the man stepped into my living room in black jeans and a fitted Ralph Lauren polo that clung to his chest.
When my eyes, against my better judgment, had dragged up to meet his, a slow burn crept across my cheeks, and my mouth turned dry.
Fucking hell.
Alexsei Romaniev had officially lost his mind.
There wasnoway he’d hired the most absurdly gorgeous man I’d ever seen to live under the same roof as me, twenty-four seven, unless it was some kind of psychological warfare.
Either he wanted me to crack, or he was trying to tempt me straight into sin.
Ex–Navy officer. French. Built like he could bench press your trauma and still have energy left to manhandle your demons.
Théo LeRoy was tall,tootall. Broad shoulders, barrel chest, the kind of man you could hide your guilt behind and still have space left over for your darkest cravings.
His eyes were a cold, wintry grey, emotionless, unreadable. His hands looked colder.
The military buzz cut only sharpened the lines of his chiseled jaw. His neck was thick and veined, with the faint curve of tattooed Latin script that just disappeared beneath his collar.
And his arms?Jesus. Built like steel bars, and I was already wondering how they’d feel pinned against my skin.
For a man that thick, he moved like a ghost, silent and smooth. If I hadn’t looked up, I’d have thought Alexsei was talking to himself.
Théo stopped in front of the dining table and locked into position, hands clasped behind his back, eyes ahead, chin up. Like a soldier awaiting orders.
I had to cross my arms and look away.
Because up close, he was lethal. And I had a very bad feeling he knew it.
“Good afternoon, Miss Harper.” His voice filled the space between us—deep, rough, sinfully rich.
It didn’t just speak, itcaressed. Like smoke and honey and every bad idea you know you’ll say yes to.
“Théo LeRoy. I’ll be your new bodyguard. I promise to keep you safe and sound.”
I raised a brow, caught off guard not by the name or the title, but by the utter lack of accent. For a supposedlyFrenchex-soldier, the man spoke cleaner English than most Ivy League graduates.
What a waste. The least he could’ve done was purr my name with a little Parisian ruin.
That was how LeRoy had barged into my life and ruined it.
The man was painfully, disgustingly,outrageouslygorgeous and about as talkative as a tombstone.
