Page 20 of Sinful Lies

“Yes. So effective that he’s taking me on a date Saturday night.”

He ran a hand down his tie. “A date?”

Honey and dark wood draped in silk sheets.

A rush of something sweet and dangerous stirred in my chest. I hated how good he looked, how he could make even the simplest move seem like a carefully calculated play.

I could almost feel the heat rolling off of him, and it made me want to tear my own eyes out.

“Yep, and then he’s taking me to his place for, and I quote, ‘the greatest night of my life.’” I scoffed. “Bold of him to think I’m that easy to impress.”

“Bold of you to assume anyone’s still desperate enough to try.”

“Wow, insecureandcruel. Must be exhausting being you, Lazzio.”

He turned and walked to the table, slipping his phone back into his perfectly tailored black pants before leaning against it.

His expression was cold and unreadable, like always, but the way he ran his tongue across his teeth told me he was more pissed than he let on.

Interesting.

“Tell me more, Miss Whitenhouse. Even though you know it’s off-limits to screw my clients. Unless you’re eager to lose your precious position.”

Ah, my favorite part of the day—seeing which one of us could push the other closer to losing their patience.

I crossed my legs, letting my heel dangle lazily from my foot. “You know, maybe we should revisit that policy. Some of our clients are very much my type. Think about it—a littleextracurricularactivity could be great for my mental health. I rake in millions for you, you share the profits, and I get to screw the ones who catch my eye. Sounds fair to me, don’t you think?”

Jade: one.

Lazzio: zero.

“Fair? Only if I wanted to start running a brothel. Though, judging by the way youthink, you’d fit right in.”

I tilted my head. “I bet you’d be my most loyal customer.”

His jaw tightened, just slightly, but it was enough to tell me I’d struck a nerve.

“Trust me, Miss Whitenhouse, I would never be desperate enough to pay for what you’d be selling.”

Ouch. That one had claws.

Jade: one.

Lazzio: one.

A wicked smile spread across my cheeks. “Oh, I wouldn’t charge you, boss. I’m not cruel enough to make you admit what you want.”

“Ah, and what do I want?”

I remained silent as I stood, moving slowly around the table, my heels clicking against the floor as I made my way toward him.

I stopped just inches away, watching him carefully.

His hands gripped the edge of the table, his eyes narrowing, the tension between us thickening.

I ran a finger along his tie, my touch lingering just long enough to make him flinch before I yanked it—just a little—messing it up, watching his gaze darken.

I could feel it—the urge to snap, to lose control.

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