Page 79 of Sinful Lies

Something about James Greg being dangerous.

Please.

As if I didn’t know the kind of company I kept. Angelo Lazzio lecturing me about danger was like a wolf warning a sheep about the dark.

The man was a freaking murderer, after all.

But to be completely honest, I had almost bailed.

A weekend alone sounded amazing—hot bubble baths, red wine, maybe even a club or two to find someone… fun. It had been far too long since I’d had sex, and lately, even the slightest flirtation felt like foreplay. Like the pilot standing a few feet away— blue eyes, broad shoulders.

But then I’d remembered one very important thing: Lazzio didn’t want me here.

Which meant, obviously, Ihadto come.

I dropped into the plush leather seat across from him, and his eyes locked on me, unflinching. His fingers brushed along the faint scratches on his jaw—scratches I’d left there.

I bit back a smirk.

Guess I’d underestimated how sharp my nails were.

Today, for some reason, he looked like sin wrapped in designer fabric—the kind of polished Armani perfection that made women forget their own names. Those glasses—the ones he only wore when he had a headache—made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine. Except no model looked like they could crush you in a bear hug—or worse—without breaking a sweat.

My gaze lingered on his arms, the fabric stretching just a little too tight over his muscles. For a second, I wondered what it’d feel like to have one wrapped around my neck?—

Jesus Christ, Jade.

Pull yourself together.

The man had killed my sister.

That was Angelo Lazzio—my nemesis, my tormentor, the one who had wrecked my life.

I slouched further into the seat, forcing myself to look away.

Only a few months of celibacy, and I was already losing my damn mind.

“Let me be clear,diavoletta,” he said, leaning in just enough to invade my space, his eyes flicking briefly to my lips. “This flight is five fucking hours, and I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.Capiche?”

Okay, Mister Dictator.

“Guess that means I shouldn’t ask if you want to join the mile high club, huh?”

His expression didn’t even twitch. Not even a flicker of amusement.

Instead, he shot me a dark look before grabbing his phone and burying himself in it like I didn’t exist.

Well, wasn’t he just a ray of sunshine?

I leaned back in my seat and crossed my legs, the leather creaking faintly beneath me.

He wanted silence? Fine. I could give him silence.

But I wasn’t about to sit here bored out of my mind, either.

My eyes wandered over him again, tracing the strong lines of his jaw, the way his dark hair curled just slightly at the ends, and those damn glasses perched on his nose.

God, he looked insufferably good, which only made me want to annoy him more.

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