Page 132 of Sinfully Yours

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound like glass shattering in an empty room. "Oh, darling. You think I'm the one who's desperate?" She leans forward, lowering her voice. "You're the one who walked into my game."

The words are meant to unnerve me. But I've played too many rounds of this with her before.

I shake my head. "This isn't your game anymore."

Her eyes flash.

She exhales through her nose, tilting her head. "Cute."

She studies me for a moment, then clicks her tongue. "You know, Liam, you were always so predictable. So… noble." She lifts a gloved hand, inspecting her nails. "It's exhausting, really."

I don't move. I just watch. Wait.

Then, as if she's finally grown bored, she drops her hand and turns to Cliff. "Kill him."

I did not expect that.

And just like that, the night detonates.

Cliff moves fast—faster than a man his size should. I dodge left just as his fist swings through the space where my face had been a second ago. The force behind it is enough to make the air snap. I recover quickly, planting my feet just in time for the second guy to lunge.

I pivot, redirecting his momentum. He stumbles forward, cursing, but I don't get a second to breathe before Cliff is on me again. A strike to the ribs—I block it, barely. Then another—this one lands.

Pain lances through my side, but I push through, driving my elbow into his sternum. He grunts, but he's not down. Not even close.

The second guy charges again, swinging wide. I duck, grab his arm, twist. A sharp snap. He howls, dropping to his knees.

One down.

Cliff doesn't hesitate. He swings again, aiming for my head. I dodge, barely, the knuckles grazing my temple. Stars explode in my vision.

Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

Everything halts.

Vanessa stands a few feet away, her arm extended, a sleek pistol aimed directly at my chest.

She sighs. "Now, Liam." Her voice is smooth, unhurried. "Be a dear and stay down, would you?"

My pulse pounds in my ears, but I force myself to stay still.

Teeth bared like a rabid wolf, Cliff steps back.

I meet Vanessa's gaze. "You're not walking out of this."

She smirks. "Oh, darling." She cocks her head. "I think I already have."

Her voice drips with the kind of arrogance that's gotten her this far in life—the belief that she's untouchable, untouchable enough to hold a gun to my chest and still smirk like this is a goddamn cocktail party.

I exhale slowly, forcing my heartbeat to steady, to drown out the pulsing adrenaline flooding my system. Cliff Reyes looms beside her, broad and still, waiting for his next command like a well-trained attack dog. The other guy is still on the floor, groaning in pain, his arm bent at an unnatural angle from where I snapped it.

But Vanessa? She hasn't even broken a sweat.

Instead, she steps closer, her boots clicking against the cracked concrete, each step deliberate, unhurried. The gun stays steady in her grip, pointed right at my ribs.

"Let's not be dramatic, Liam," she muses. "You didn't seriously think you'd win this one, did you?"

I tilt my head. "Considering the fact that you're holding a gun instead of making another empty threat, I'd say I've already won."

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