Page 75 of Sinful Desires
“Anyway, I saw you flirting with Governor Carter’s son last night,dolcezza,” my mother said with a wink. “He’s quite the catch.”
I frowned. “James Carter?”
Kiara rolled her eyes and bit into a strawberry. “She only says that because she’s still delusional enough to think the White House is in her future.”
I felt Théo’s hot stare crawl up the back of my neck.
Flirting?Hardly.
The guy had told me I looked beautiful and said he loved my songs, though I’m pretty sure the only one he’d ever heard was what I’d played last night.
He used to be my type. Tall, delicate, forgettable. But lately, my taste had shifted.
Drastically.
All because of the man behind me.
I reached for my phone, done pretending we were having a normal breakfast and not a family-hosted PR stunt from hell.
“Well,” I said lightly, “as fun as this brunch ambush has been, I need to get back to New York. Alexsei texted. GQ wants a shoot. Apparently I’ve been namedWoman of the Year. Or something dramatic like that.” The lie rolled off my tongue.
My mother gasped like she’d just heard she was invited to sit next to the Queen of England. “Oh,dolcezza! Woman of the Year! We are so proud of you.Soproud.Mia bella figlia, non ci posso credere!”
My father didn’t even glance up. He just turned a page of his paper. “Yes. Go. We’ll have your gifts sent.”
I stood slowly, ignoring the heat crawling up my chest.
“Liar,” Kiara whispered, smiling without looking up as she tapped her screen, zooming in on her latest celebrity obsession.
I pinched her arm.
“Grazie,” I said, smiling widely enough to show teeth. “Truly, this has been the most grounding experience of my week.”
I walked out and made my way quickly to my room. I threw some things into a bag and made my way out without looking back. Twenty minutes later, I was boarding the jet.
Théo placed our bags in the overhead compartment. He then sat across from me, opened his laptop, and ignored me so thoroughly it might’ve been a skill he’d trained for.
The same stewardess handed us water and snacks, and not even five minutes later the plane took off. I reclined my seat and crossed my legs slowly, deliberately, and stared straight at him.
He didn’t look up. Not once. And in some twisted way, it made everything worse.
The more he ignored me, the more I burned for it. I didn’t want his attention. Ineededit.
He once told me I wouldn’t have to beg. But God, I wanted to. On my knees. My hands on his thighs. Mouth open. I wanted to look up at him with watery eyes and watch him lose control.
“Say something in French for me.”
“No.”
I pouted. “I thought you were good at taking orders.”
“Not from half-Italian superstars with a god complex.”
“What about your boss?”
“You’re not my boss.”
I lifted a brow. “I’m the one signing your checks.”
