Page 77 of Sinful Desires
And at night? It was him.Alwayshim.
Memories of his hands in my hair, mouth on my skin, voice in my ear telling me exactly how pathetic I was. I still came to the thought of it. Still fell apart pretending I hated him.
I should. I really fucking should.
But every time I thought of him, the way he said my name, I ended up writing songs filled with gold and blood all over the pages.
I sighed, taking one last puff of the cigarette. “He’s bipolar as hell. No idea how he’s still breathing. If I had to share a bunker with him, I’d hit the red button myself and call it a mercy killing.”
Victoria took her cigarette back. “Anyway, it’s for the best. If your father finds out you’re fucking a commoner, or if your fans do?” She shook her head. “Say bye-bye to everything. That pretty body isn’t worth the fallout.”
I whined, hands digging into my eyes. She was right.
Annoyingly, brutally right.
I knew I should stay away.
This wasn’t like before. I used to get away with private hookups. Quick, quiet, messy. A barista here. A bassist there. As long as it stayed behind closed doors, no one cared.
But Théo wasn’t just some hookup—he was staff. Standing too close to me in every room, seeing everything, saying nothing. That alone made it forbidden. The rest made it dangerous.
He was on payroll. Bound to me. Hired to protect me, not fuck me. And the headlines would write themselves. Power abuse. Manipulation. Exploitation. Recklessness.
Once people smelled blood, they would tear everything down just to watch me bleed.
My father had made that clear. After I’d been spotted publicly with the barista, he’d slapped me twice and threatened to lock me in my apartment until I remembered who I was.
That poor guy had gotten thousands of death threats. People said they would slit his throat if he ever touched me again. Someone leaked his address. Posted pictures of his building. Slid photos of nooses into his inbox. He had to pack up and move across the country overnight.
So, sleeping with Théo wasn’t just risky, it was playing with the match that could set my entire life on fire. It was betrayal. It was everything I wasn’t supposed to want.
And yet I did.
As much as the idea of Théo LeRoy on top of me made my whole body ache, I knew it couldn’t happen. Not unless I wanted blood on my hands.
“What you need is a night out, a shot between your tits, and a man who fucks like he’s got nothing to lose.”
I blinked. “You just described my teens.”
“Exactly. Let’s bring her back. That bitch was fun.”
LeRoy got up from his push-ups, all sweaty and breathless, and grabbed the towel off the chair, wiping his face and neck. His eyes found mine.
I reached for the cigarette still burning between Victoria’s fingers and pulled a drag deep into my lungs. “Yeah,” I said, watching him. “Let’s do it.”
We were going out. Club. Music. Something to forget him.
Or at least something to blame when I made it worse.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.Then find someone whose life has given them vodka and have a party!”
?Anya Boszczyk
Théo
