Page 83 of Sinful Lies

He pressed the button, and the doors opened.

“You’ll be staying in theLa Belle Nuitsuite. Your bags are already in your room.” He hit the number fifteen on the panel and handed me a card. “Only people with this card can access the suite. Don’t lose it.”

I grabbed the card, fighting an eye roll, and stepped inside.

“Good night, Miss Whitenhouse.”

The doors closed before I could respond.

The elevator ride was short, but it gave me enough time to brace for the over-the-top extravagance waiting for me.

When the doors opened, I walked straight into a room that screamedroyalty—the Marie Antoinette kind.

Everything was excessive. The chandelier above looked like a Versailles knockoff, dripping with crystals that caught the light. The walls were pastel pinks and creams, with delicate gold moldings and floral designs.

It was a Parisian fairy tale… minus the rats.

Across the room, the little salon sofa looked like it belonged in a museum—faded velvet, untouched, meant for some frail aristocrat who wouldn’t dare sit on it.

But my eyes went straight to the real showstopper: the bed.

The baldaquin king-sized bed was a monster of dark wood and golden drapes. Four towering posts held thick, golden curtains, making the bed look like the perfect place to pretend I was royalty—or someone’s expensive secret.

I sighed, tossing the card on the marble table before heading for the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and throwing them around the room.

In nothing but my underwear, I pushed open the bathroom door, desperate for a long, hot shower to erase the grime of the flight.

But nothing could have prepared me for what I walked into.

I screamed, the sound ripping through my chest, sharp enough to make my own heart skip a beat.

There he was.

Angelo Lazzio.

Naked.

Completely, shamelessly,devastatinglynaked.

In the shower.

Rubbing his chiseled body with soap, the bubbles slipping over his skin.

His eyes shot wide the second my scream hit him, his hands fumbling desperately to cover up what was definitelynotmeant for anyone else to see.

Oh. My. God.

He was packing… way more than I’d ever expected.

“Get out, Miss Whitenhouse!”

I froze, my brain scrambling to catch up with what had just happened.

But how the hell was I supposed to think straight after that?

I stood there, my eyes locked on him and his…bigsituation. My brain was barely processing anything, but my eyes? They were glued.

I couldn’t look away.

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