Page 62 of Sinful Lies

It’s why, as I was about to leave that night, he had slipped into my office without making a sound. He’d pressed his body against the door, his eyes locking with mine.

“Want me to buy you off, or can you keep your mouth shut?”

I smiled darkly, savoring every second of it. “Nah. I don’t need you to bribe me,” I’d said, grabbing my coat and slinging it over my shoulders, my Chanel Boy bag hanging off my arm.

“Good,” he’d muttered, turning toward the door.

But I wasn’t done. Oh no, not yet.

“Oh, but there’s still something I want from you, Lazzio.”

He froze, his hand tightening on the door handle, his knuckles turning white.

“I want fifty percent of Lazzio Exhibits Inc.”

“What?” he barked, spinning around to face me.

“You heard me.”

“You want to own fifty percent ofmyfucking company?”

I leaned against the desk, casually tossing my bag onto the chair.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said with a smile. “Fifty percent of Lazzio Exhibits Inc.”

His hands balled into fists as he took a step toward me. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m giving you half of anything.”

I tilted my head. “Maybe,” I said softly, leaning in just a little. “But I’m pretty sure you’d rather give me fifty percent than have your dear old uncle Lorenzo find out his lovely wife is getting fucked by his nephew on a random Tuesday night, while she probably told him she was heading out for Bible study.”

He moved fast, reaching for the gun under his vest.

In an instant, he had me pinned hard against the wall, the cold barrel pressing deep into my throat. My nails dug into the skin of his wrist.

“I’m done with you, Miss Whitenhouse.”

My hand slid up to his face, fingers tracing his jaw, nails leaving a slow, burning trail. “Likewise, Lazzio.”

A deep, guttural sound rose from his chest.

“Get your shit and get out. You’re fired.”

My smile only grew wider, darker.

I wrapped my fingers tighter around his gun, lifting it to my lips. My tongue slipped out, dragging along the cold barrel in a sensual tease.

I dragged my lips over it—slow and filthy, sucking once, twice, three times—each pull exaggerated. A low, shameless moan slipped from my throat.

My eyes stayed glued to his, daring him to look away, and when I finally let it slip from my mouth with a loud, wet pop, I couldn’t help but let a wicked laugh escape.

“Oh, Lazzio,” I breathed, lowering the gun, letting the tip glide down my throat, tracing my skin until it nestled between my breasts. “You know you couldneverfire me.”

His grip tightened on the gun.

“You think this is a joke?”

“Isn’t it?” I chuckled darkly, my fingers sliding around the back of his neck, pulling him even closer until my lips brushed against his skin. “I’ve got too much dirt on you,” I whispered, before my tongue slowly dragged along his neck. “I couldruinyou… so, no, you won’t fire me, baby.”

He stayed silent, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

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