Page 129 of Sinful Lies

The chairs were jet black, high backed, and so dramatic they could have been thrones.

I hesitated for just a second in the doorway, taking it all in. “Wow.”

Lazzio moved in closer, and I swore the room got even warmer.

He took my hand, his lips brushing over the glove. “I had the same reaction when you walked in, Miss Whitenhouse—my heart nearly stopped,” he murmured. “You’re the real Christmas miracle tonight,amore.”

My cheeks heated. “Stop it, Angelo.”

“I can’t help it. You look too tempting tonight—impossible not to stare.”

His hand didn’t just touch mine—itlingered, as if he were savoring the feel of it.

My pulse skipped, but I fought the urge to yank it away.

Instead, with a sigh, I let him guide me to the table.

He then reached for a chair, pulling it out like a gentleman.

“Sit.”

I sank into the chair, despite every nerve in my body screaming at me to slap that smug grin off his face.

He sat next to me,tooclose, his leg brushing mine.

I forced my focus away.

The butlers moved around the table, refilling glasses, replacing plates, and ensuring the Lazzios were well catered to.

I grabbed another glass of champagne. The bubbles hit my tongue, and I let the glass linger in my hand, swirling it absently.

I studied the people around me—every laugh, every side-eye, every whispered comment. The familiar faces, and the ones I hadn’t seen before. The ones who would laugh with me, and the ones who wouldn’t hesitate to slit my throat if it suited them.

But no Luciana or Lorenzo.

Their absence was loud, even if no one else seemed to acknowledge it.

She was really gone, then.

Interesting. Never expected Angelo Lazzio to play the hero.

From time to time, I felt it—his eyes on me.

His knee brushed mine under the table, almost on purpose, sending a little spark up my leg. His hand would brush mine when I reached for something—salt, champagne, whatever the hell it was.

And each time, that spark shot through me again,hotterthan before.

Then suddenly, Carlos Lazzio rose from his seat, tapping his glass.

“Every Christmas, we share what we’re most grateful for. And this year, as always, it will forever bemia famiglia.”

Glasses lifted, the chorus was loud and proud: “La famiglia!”

My throat tightened, and I could feel that stupid burn behind my eyes.

Yes,family.

Family was everything.

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