Page 35 of Sinful Lies

Two years ago

“I can’t believe it! Me, winning the award for the best art show in New York?”

Lazzio didn’t even spare me a glance.

His fingers kept flying over his keyboard. “Notyou, Miss Whitenhouse. Lazzio Exhibits Inc. You’re just the onecollectingthe award.”

I threw myself onto his sofa, crossing my arms. “Same thing. Besides, I do own thirty percent of it now. So technically, it’s practically mine.”

He shot me a look so murderous, I half expected him to reach for the nearest sharp object. But he didn’t say a word. Just kept tapping away on his keyboard like I wasn’t even there.

I leaned back into the couch, tapping my nails against my chin. “What on earth am I gonna wear to this gala? I need something that screamsI won bitches!but, like, in a classy way. You know?”

“Get out. You’re giving me a fucking headache.”

I grinned, lounging deeper into the couch. “Thank God you won’t be there tonight. I’ve seen enough of you for the whole month.”

“I’ve invested millions over the years into that gala. I’m obligated to go. But trust me, knowing you’ll be there annoys me just as much.”

A bad taste filled my mouth.

“Seriously, what’s your deal? You followed me to my meeting with the mayor yesterday, and three days ago you were stalking me at a meeting with one of our investors. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a little obsessed with me, Lazzio.”

He scoffed. “Ah, obsessed, huh?”

I glared at him. “You heard me.”

He leaned back, eyes narrowing as he scoffed. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. I’m not obsessed, just making sure you’re doing your job and not adding another client to your list of men to fuck. I heard about Nathan Simons.” Disgust curled his lips. “You really know how to pick them, don’t you?”

My stomach dropped to my toes, but I shoved the feeling down before it could settle.

How did he find out?

For some bizarre reason, every time a man’s name came up—whether I’d seen him, dated him, or even justmentionedhim—Lazzio’s reaction was always the same: disgust, quickly followed by indifference.

It was almost as if the idea of me being sexual made him sick, which frankly was rich coming from someone with hisquestionablekinks I’d accidentally uncovered.

I pouted. “Jealous that you’ll never make it onto the list?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened to something almost lethal.

For a moment, I was sure he was mentally calculating how to dispose of my body without anyone noticing.

“Careful, Miss Whitenhouse.”

His tone was so ice cold it practically burned.

Yeah, that was my cue.

I wasn’t suicidal—annoying him was fun, but even I knew when to quit.

No need to let his bad mood wreck my perfectly good night ahead.

I stood, smoothing my skirt, and made a show of sauntering toward the door, a sway in my hips just for fun.

As I reached the door, I turned just enough to catch his gaze, letting my lips curve into a smirk. “Oh, and just a heads-up—Nathan Simons? Best sex of my life. You could probably take a few notes.”

A little white lie, sure, but it hit the mark.

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