Page 158 of Sinful Lies

“I’m quite sad Scarlett couldn’t perform for our party tomorrow night,” she said, taking a slow sip. “I really love her songs.”

I leaned back on the couch. “She’s talented, but she’s a fucking mess, too. Don’t get me wrong, she’s my cousin, and I’m protective as hell, but damn, she’s a handful.”

She hummed, crossing her legs. “Maybe that’s why her songs are so beautiful. Broken souls are the most creative, in my experience.”

Her eyes flickered to mine for half a second—just long enough to light a fire in my chest—before she dropped them to her cup, setting it down on the coffee table.

Broken souls are the most creative.

Something in my head snapped into place.

“What’s the story behind your tattoo?”

Her eyes, heavy and half lidded, met mine. “A broken heart.”

“Who the fuck broke your heart?”

She smirked, as if for some reason she found it funny.

“Why were you in such a shitty mood this morning?”

“When did you get your tattoo, Jade?”

She sighed, clearly bored. “Seven years ago. What happened today, Lazzio?”

“A year before you applied to work for me.”

She nodded, her eyes tracing every inch of my face, like she was mapping me out.

“Who broke your heart, Jade?”

The words burned my chest.

Whoever did it, I’d rip him apart, piece by piece.

“An Australian. Tall. Dark hair. Just like you.”

The lie in her voice wasn’t hard to spot.

I could practically taste it.

“Jade—”

“What happened today, Lazzio?”

Bitter amusement twisted in my throat.

No one had ever brushed me off like that before.

She was put on this earth to humble me, and fuck, she was doing it damn well.

“Are we playing twenty questions now?”

She crossed her arms, her tits pushing up so fucking high I had to fight the urge not to stare. “Why not? You’re the nosy one?—”

“Greg is the one who kidnapped me.”

She gasped. “What?”

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