Page 14 of Sinful Lies

As if he’d plucked the thought right out of my mind, his gaze shifted, starting at my feet.

Slowly—agonizingly so—it roamed upward, lingering on the curve of my legs, pausing at my waist before moving to my chest, brushing over the hollow of my throat, and finally landing back on my face.

A strange shiver rippled down my spine.

His hands gripped the edge of the desk behind him, knuckles flexing, the tendons in his arms tightening just enough to draw my attention.

“Come on, Miss Whitenhouse. Convince me.”

Oh, now he wanted to play?

Sure. Why not.

Convincing men like Angelo Lazzio was practically a sport, wasn’t it? Or maybe more of an art form. Either way, I was not about to crawl or beg.

If anything,he’dbe the one crawling before this was over.

But the way he leaned back against the desk, all predatory patience and coiled power, made something inside me twist.

Rationality screamed for me to walk away, but that reckless little voice in my head—my ever-loyal partner in crime—whispered.Stay. Let him see what you’re made of.

This wasn’t just about pride or ambition.

No, this was about revenge.

A slow burn that had carried me through sleepless nights and hollow days, sharpening me into something relentless.

And now, standing before Angelo Lazzio, I could feel it thrumming under my skin, urging me forward.

“I’m not here to beg. I don’t beg. And I’m not here for charity, either. I’m here because I’m a taker. I take what I want, what I’ve earned, and what belongs to me.”

“And you think a place here is yours?”

I let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t think. Iknow. That museum you’ve poured millions into? It’s beautiful, but it’s soulless. It’s screaming for someone who can make it matter, someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty. You need someone with guts. That’s me.”

He let out a scoff. “A lot of confidence for someone so young.”

I stepped closer, the scent of leather and something unmistakably masculine wafting through the air.

“I’m only six years your junior. But unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of wasting time. So ask yourself…” I paused, watching the flicker of something—curiosity?—dance in his eyes. “Will you be the man who lets me walk out, a missed opportunity? Or the one who sees what I can bring to your empire?”

My gaze didn’t waver, holding his with the quiet assurance of someone who knew exactly what she was worth—and how to take it.

He nodded slowly, his tongue dragging over his teeth. “See you next Monday, Miss Whitenhouse. Merry Christmas.”

My Christmas miracle.

A small smile curved my lips, fire igniting in my chest as I held his gaze for a beat too long.

With measured steps, I turned and strode out of the room, throwing a playful wink at his secretary on my way to the elevator.

The moment the doors slid shut, I exhaled sharply, my composure crumbling.

Then, unable to hold it back any longer, I let out a scream, the kind that only comes when you know everything’s falling into place.

My plan was working, exactly how I had imagined.

Every move, every word, hitting the mark.

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