Page 106 of Sinful Lies

For six years, I’d been dreaming of this, fighting to keep it at bay, convincing myself I didn’t want what I could never have.

And now that it was mine? There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let it go.

Three nights. That’s all it had taken.

Three nights, and now every part of me was hooked—addicted, obsessed,ruined.

My body had made up its mind, and all it wanted was Jade fucking Whitenhouse.

Now.

I wanted her on her knees, mouth open and ready, so I could fuck that sharp tongue of hers into silence. I wanted her riding me, those perfect tits in my mouth, her pretty face softening as she fell apart. I wanted her on all fours, her back arched, that dragon tattoo daring me to trace it with my tongue.

I wanted to fuck Jade Whitenhouse until she forgot her own name and only remembered mine.

And I hated her for it.

The pretty woman had been a thorn in my side for six years, a walking disaster designed specifically to drive me insane. She didn’t listen. She touched my shit just to piss me off. She always had a comeback, always a smirk that made me want to throttle her—and now?

Now I needed her more than I needed my next breath.

And the worst part?

I already knew I wouldn’t stop myself. Not anymore.

And for a man who thrived on control, this was crawling under my skin and pissing me off.

“I’ll find him. Just got other shit to deal with first.”

Like ripping this fucking obsession out of my veins, like a junkie going through the worst kind of withdrawal.

My father pushed himself up from the chair. “Waiting makes you look fucking weak, Angelo!”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the door slammed open.

Jade stormed in like a fucking hurricane, breath ragged and heavy, and the entire room froze—every single man locked on her.

She moved fast, too fast.

In the blink of an eye, she was at Vittori’s side, her hands a blur, snatching the gun from under his vest.

Without missing a beat, she fired.

The shot screamed through the air, so close to my head that I felt the rush of wind before I dodged it.

The men scrambled to their feet, their guns already out, all of them pointing at her, ready to turn the room into hell.

“You get shot and keep it from me? What the fuck are you playing at, Lazzio?”

I sighed, wiping the irritation off my lips like I had just tasted something rancid.

“Damn, Beatrix Kiddo,” Vittori muttered, half laughing as he lit a cigarette, looking like he was watching the best damn show in town.

He was the only one still seated.

My father looked so pissed, I thought smoke was going to start shooting out of his ears. “Miss Whitenhouse, what the hell is wrong with you?”

She didn’t budge, gun still aimed high, eyes colder than a deep freeze.

---