Page 59 of Sinful Lies

He yanked his hand back, standing up abruptly. “Sì. Don’t you have better things to do than get on my nerves?”

I sighed, swinging my legs playfully in the air. “Sadly, no. Grace left early today, so I needed a new target to torment.”

“Ah, I’m the lucky one, huh?”

I pouted. “Kinda. You should feel honored.”

In the six years I'd been working for Angelo, nothing got me off more than pissing him off. Watching his eyes darken, his shoulders go rigid, that little flush of rage creeping up his neck—it was almost as good as an orgasm.

Seeing that look on his face, knowing I’d wrecked his mood?

It was the kind of twisted satisfaction that made my day worth living.

“Where were you yesterday, Miss Whitenhouse?”

Shit.

I thought it would’ve slipped right past him.

My fingers dug into the edge of his desk. “Family emergency.”

“Thought you had no family,diavoletta.”

“I don’t.”

“Then explain.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“A friend of mine gave birth. Back home in Philly. I promised I’d be there.”

A total lie.

His gaze sharpened. “Boy or girl?”

“A boy.”

Another lie.

“Name?”

I swallowed hard. “…Ronald.”

The second it had left my mouth, I regretted it.

Who the hell names their kid Ronald? What was I thinking?

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

Feeling a mix of irritation and satisfaction, I stood up quickly, adjusting my skirt and grabbing the contract.

As I turned toward the door, I could feel his eyes on the back of my legs.

Angelo Lazzio had a thing for legs. After all these years, it was as clear as day. I’d caught him staring more than once—whether in private or in public, the man’s eyes always seemed to find his target.

The type: blond, short, athletic. Strong legs.

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