Page 108 of Sinful Lies

My lips brushed over the mark before I pulled back just enough to catch her eye again.

“Next time you try to kill me,diavoletta,” I muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth, “aim lower.”

She jerked my hand away, shoving it off her chin like I’d burned her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your leg?”

I took a step back, arms folding across my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about your nightmares?”

Those three nights had felt endless, and each time, I’d caught her—twisting, muttering like she was running from something, or someone.

And that name …Stella.

Her face drained of color. “What?”

“I’ve spent three nights next to you, Miss Whitenhouse. And every one of them, you screamed for someone—Stella.”

Her eyes flashed for just a second—too quickly for her to hide it—but I saw it.

Panic.

Real panic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I heard you. Who’s Stella?”

She froze, her lips parting like she had something to say, but nothing came out.

I let out a dry chuckle. “What’s the matter, Miss Whitenhouse? Did I finally succeed in making you speechless?”

She cleared her throat. “It wasn’t Stella, it was Bella… you know, like Bella fromTwilight,” she said with a small laugh. “The woods probably reminded me of all that brooding vampire drama?—”

“Stop lying, Jade.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, wide for a second before narrowing in that stubborn defiance I knew too well. “I’m not.”

I took a step forward, and she mirrored it, stepping back, keeping that damn distance between us.

“All you ever do is lie, Miss Whitenhouse.”

She snorted. “Well, you should already know that, Lazzio. You’ve known me for more than six years now.”

I moved again, another step closer, forcing her to retreat just a fraction.

“Who’s Stella?”

She tilted her head, ignoring my question again. “Who shot you?”

Another step forward.

She took another step back, but this time, her back hit the wall.

Trapped.

“James Greg.”

She nodded slowly, but there was something in her gaze—like she’d already known, like she’d been expecting this answer.

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