Page 76 of Sinful Lies

As I passed Grace’s desk, her glare could’ve burned a hole in me.

She hissed out, “Satan.”

I smirked, enjoying the fire in her eyes.

Let her burn. It only made my little victory sweeter.

Chapter

Eighteen

“A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.”

? Oscar Wilde

Angelo

“To what do I owe this visit, Greg?” I asked, gesturing toward the cream, L-shaped couch in the corner of my office, my voice dripping with annoyance I didn’t bother to hide.

He followed my lead without a second thought, settling into the seat across from me.

I sank back into the couch, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. The kind of silence that would make anyone squirm—except James Greg. He looked right at home in it, like he thrived on the discomfort.

Just then, Grace entered, balancing coffees, tea, and a tray of pastries with the deliberate clink of porcelain slicing through the oppressive air. Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment, the anger there clear as day.

She was pissed, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

Without a word, she left as quickly as she’d come.

James leaned forward, reaching for his cup.

“For my condolences, of course,” he said. He took a slow sip of coffee, his eyes narrowing with faux sympathy. “I heard about your little actress, Pauline Dupont. Tragic, really. Suicide, right?” He shook his head, his lips curling just slightly. “Such a sad story.”

I barely registered his words.

The memory of Jade pressed up against me just minutes ago, her body barely a breath away, her tits brushing my chest, her nails digging into my skin—it kept me fucking speechless.

Her dark eyes?Fuck.

They were a drug, pulling me in until the world blurred, and all that remained was her. Her body. Her voice. Every fucking inch of her.

This woman—she had gotten under my skin in ways I should’ve never allowed.

But damn, I hadn’t been able to shake it for the past six fucking years.

“I reckon I should be the one to offer my condolences,” I said, grabbing a cup and taking a long, slow sip. “You two were lovers, after all.”

His smirk didn’t falter, but there was a brief flicker in his eyes.

Wrath.

He set his cup down, eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair.

“I only fucked the poor woman once. Wouldn’t exactly call her that.”

“Well, you won’t be calling heranythinganymore. She’s gone. Gone for good.”

The amusement in his eyes flickered out like a candle in the wind.

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