Page 180 of Sinful Lies

I’d asked what was wrong, twice, and both times she had lied.

I could see it—the flicker in her eyes, the way her face paled just a shade.

I knew what it was.

We’d spent so many years hating each other that she couldn’t grasp the truth: I had never hated her. I’d always fucking wanted her. But I’d never believed she’d want me in return.

Six years in her shadow—taking care of her, protecting her, loving her in the dark, never knowing if she felt the same. But her hate? I knew that well. So I had let her give it to me—insults, barbs, petty little jabs. It hadn’t mattered. Because it meant she was close. Her pretty face inches from mine, her eyes locked on me, her voice a soft, haunting caress in my ear.

I had lived for that.

Even if it was fucked up. Even if it was twisted.

It was all I’d ever needed.

Having her by my side was all I’d ever craved.

Her mask was gone. Mine wasn’t needed anymore, so I threw it on the desk.

“Playing hide and seek, Miss Whitenhouse?”

She tilted her head, a look of confusion crossing her face.

“I’ve been searching for you for an hour, everywhere. Guess time’s up. You win.”

She chuckled ever so slightly before a sigh left her lips.

Her eyes met mine.

“We need to talk, Angelo.”

“Yeah, we do,” I murmured, stepping closer, inch by inch, until there was barely a breath of air between us.

Her head tilted up, her lips parting, quivering like she was bracing herself for what was coming.

“But first, you need to tell me what’s bothering you, so I can fix it.”

She let out a dry, biting laugh. “Fix it? What if the problem is me, Angelo? What’s your fix then? Shoot me too, like Pauline Dupont?”

My jaw tightened at the mention of that name.

“Pauline Dupont made her choices. She earned her bullet. You’re not her. Don’t ever compare yourself to someone like that.”

Her chin tilted up defiantly. “And if I did deserve it? What then?”

“If you think I’d ever kill you, you’re out of your fucking mind. But anyone else causing you problems? They’re dead the second I know their name.”

I didn’t know what the hell was tearing her apart, but I’d never seen her this wrecked—like she hated herself more than anything I could ever kill for her.

Her silence stretched, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words never came.

I leaned in. “Let me make this clear. If you’ve made a mess, I’ll clean it up. If someone’s hurt you, they’re already dead. But if you think for one second I’d ever hurt you, you don’t know me at all.”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “You don’t get it?—”

“Then make me understand, sweetheart.”

A tear fell, but she quickly wiped it away, biting her lip. “I can’t.”

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