Page 67 of Sinful Desires (Sinful #4)

Chapter

Fifty-One

“Just you and me against the world. Always and forever.”

― Jessica Sorensen

Théo

“Are you sure you want to do this, Scarlett?”

She stared through the blacked-out car window, fingers twitching in her lap.

Outside, the paparazzi were swarming like rats, flashes bouncing off the glass as Henry navigated slowly through them, until we slipped into the underground parking lot.

The gates shut behind us.

No more cameras. No more eyes.

When I had pulled her out of that goddamn mansion, she’d clung to me like she was still falling. Arms locked around my neck, face buried in the crook of it, knuckles white against my shoulder.

She hadn’t let go. Not once on the ride back to Beverly Hills.

Her friends had been waiting. The two of them pale, anxious, and swarming toward the car the second we stopped. I didn’t let them touch her. Didn’t let them ask questions. She’d fallen asleep against my chest somewhere between the freeway and Mulholland, and I wasn’t about to let them wake her up.

I carried her inside.

They followed at first, then backed off when I made it clear they weren’t needed.

When I laid her in bed, she stirred. Eyes half open. Dazed.

“I want to shower,” she murmured.

I carried her again, this time into the bathroom.I was about to close the door and give her space, but her hand caught my wrist.

“Please, stay with me, Théo.”

So, I stayed.

Her hands undid the Velcro on my vest, slid the shirt off my shoulders, pulled the belt through my pants until it dropped.

I kicked off my boots. Followed her into the oversized marble shower, where warm water spilled from the ceiling like quiet rain.

She stood motionless under the spray, pink rivulets of dye streaking down her back, washing the day off her skin.

I took the shampoo and worked it into her scalp, gently. Slowly.

Because I wanted her to feel taken care of, completely. I wanted to erase the hands that had hurt her. Every bruise, every insult, every time she had been made to feel small.

I wanted her to feel like mine.

Safe .

Untouched by anything but me.

To remind her that no one else would ever lay a hand on her again.

I washed her hair. Her neck. Her back. My hands moved carefully, reverently, obsessively.

She leaned back against my chest.

I closed my eyes.

And for a moment, there was nothing in me but the need to keep her there forever.

Mon étoile filante .

We were just two stars, caught in the same gravity. If she ever faded, I would go with her.

Because I wasn’t made to survive this world without her light.

She turned to face me, her arms circling my waist.

“Thank you for tonight,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard. The guilt was a weight in my throat.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett.”

It scraped its way out of me.

“Fucking sorry for everything. Travis won’t be a problem anymore. I just wish I’d known fucking sooner what he was planning.”

She shook her head gently, then rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to my mouth.

“Travis was grieving the man he loved,” she said quietly. “And he used that grief to hurt someone he blamed.”

She looked up at me, her eyes red.

“I can’t say I’d be any different. If something happened to you, Théo?…” She paused, fingers caressing my back. “I’d lose whatever’s left of me too.”

I cupped her face.

My thumbs dragged along her cheeks, slowly, possessively, as if I could imprint myself onto her skin.

“No,” I whispered. “You wouldn’t lose yourself, baby.”

I leaned in until our foreheads touched.

“You’d survive, Scarlett. Because you always do. But you’d be carrying me in it. In every breath. Every scar. Every fucking smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.”

I paused, letting my lips hover just over hers.

“I’d be there within you cheering you on.”

A soft sob left her lips.

“You’d get through it, because that’s what you do. You survive what most people never come back from. And you still manage to look beautiful doing it.”

I tilted her chin up.

“You don’t even see it. But I do. That strength inside you. That fire. And it fucking undoes me.”

I kissed her, sealing something between us. A promise she was making to me, whether she realized it or not.

She closed her eyes, and I felt her tremble beneath my hands.

“That’s the girl I kneel for.”

My voice cracked then, barely more than a breath.

“I’d follow you through lifetimes, through death, through whatever darkness dares to take you from me. I’ll go first, Scarlett. But I’ll still crawl after your light, even if it scorches me all the way through hell.”

She nodded slightly before I turned off the shower.

I helped her out and dried her off. “Want me to dry your hair too?”

“Do you even know how?”

My mouth twitched as I grabbed the hairdryer.

“I’ve stitched flesh and snapped bones back into place. How hard can this be?”

She gave me a look. “This isn’t the military.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still the best at whatever I do.”

She almost smiled.“Try not to set my scalp on fire.”

“I promise.”

Turns out, I was shit at it.Still, I dried most of it, then braided it the way she liked, fingers tugging too tightly, but steady.

I picked her up, her skin flush against mine. Her soft cries pressed into my throat, nails biting into my waist, while I whispered things no one else would ever get to hear.

When we woke up hours later, still wrapped around each other, her eyes were on my tattoo. Fingers dragging over the ink I’d carved into my skin fourteen years ago.

à la vie, à la mort .

“Why did you tattoo this?”

I stared at the ceiling for a beat.

“In France, we say it to the people we’d kill or die for. Je t’aime . à la vie, à la mort .”

The words came out low, blunt, automatic.

Behind my eyes, flashes of my father chasing me through the garden, teaching me how to fish, trying to be the kind of man I could never become.

“My parents used to say it to me from the time I could understand words. Over and over. It became our promise. Every night before bed: On t’aime, Théo . à la vie, à la mort .”

She hummed softly.

“In life and in death. That’s what they meant, right? That no matter what happened?…?they’d still be with you?”

“Yeah,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Got it just hours before enlisting. For my dad.”

Her eyes rose to mine, hands grazing my face.

“Thank you for letting me meet him. I know it couldn’t have been easy, being in that room again. I can’t imagine how much it cost you to let me in, to share that pain. But you did,” she whispered. “And I’m so grateful you let me carry it with you. I love you, Théo.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My chest felt tight, my throat raw.

So, I kissed her instead.

She kissed me back with a sigh, then grabbed her phone and walked to the other side of the suite, sat on the sofa, and called someone.

I picked up mine and called Romaniev as I stepped into the bathroom.

Harper had gotten out of the hospital a few hours ago with stitches, a scowl, and enough rage to fuel his jet back to New York.

He’d signed the termination contract with his daughter and had handed everything over on one condition: that she never crawl back to him.

That wouldn’t ever fucking happen .

Not while I was still breathing.

Scarlett was free.

Legally, at least. The music, the name, and the rights were all hers again. No fucking strings left to pull.

After a cold shower, I walked out to find the suite swarmed. Stylists. Makeup artists. Victoria. Nicholas.

Every single one of them looked red-carpet ready.

Fuck .

The Oscars.

Nicholas let out a dramatic gasp.

“Scarlett, oh my God. You’re not walking into the Oscars, you’re descending from Mount Olympus.”

She stood from the makeup chair and walked to the mirror, where Victoria crouched to help with her heels.

“The emerald one was the perfect choice,” Nicholas added.

Her red hair fell in soft waves. The mermaid gown hugged her like it had been sewn directly onto her skin. Diamonds stitched into the fabric flared under the lights.

Her shoulders were bare, her arms exposed, the tiny tattoos on her skin quietly visible.

A massive emerald necklace rested against her collarbone. It gleamed like a crown welded to her collarbone, royal and cursed.

She looked like a goddess, and I almost wanted to kneel.

But it was her eyes that got to me.

They didn’t shine. They didn’t hold their usual excitement or pride.

They were flicking around the room, as if searching for something she couldn’t name.

She was nervous .

I could see it in the way her fingers twisted the fabric of her dress, the way she barely blinked as the limo rolled to a stop in the private lot behind the venue.

Nicholas sat beside her.

“Yes, I’m sure, Nic.”

He took her hands, squeezing them.

“I’m so proud of you, sunshine. Really proud. You’re choosing yourself for the first time in your life, and you’re doing it in six-inch heels and diamonds. Icon behavior.”

She smiled and leaned in, hugging him.

“I’m sorry for the PR mess this is going to cause,” she said quietly. “But don’t worry. I’ll tell the press it was all my fault. That way your private life can stay exactly that. Private .”

He nodded, then kissed her cheek.

Putain de merde .

His lips touched her skin, and something ugly moved in my chest.

My fists clenched before I could stop them. I felt stupid afterward, but the image of his lips against her skin stayed burning behind my eyes.

I had to force myself to stay still and not drag him out of the car and break his fingers for touching her.

“Thank you, Scar,” he said. “I’ll see you after the show. I promised Victoria I’d do the red carpet for both of us so she could finally justify asking for a raise.”

She giggled, her hand on his arm. “Nic, you got this. I have a feeling in my gut, you’re going to win that Oscar tonight.”

He gave her a theatrical wink. “If I don’t, I’m storming out mid-ceremony, throwing myself into the nearest fountain, and blaming the deeply corrupt power structure of Hollywood.”

Her laughter filled the car.

It made my jaw tighten.

Not because I wasn’t glad she was smiling. But because it wasn’t me who had put it there.

He left. I helped her out of the car, guiding her past the back entrance while some rookie handed me my earpiece. I clicked it on without looking at him. The line buzzed with noise, calls from every corner of the venue.

Five minutes to showtime .

But in her private dressing room, everything stilled.

She sat in front of the mirror, eyes closed, legs crossed, breathing like she was bracing for a hit.

“Théo,” she said, voice so soft it nearly drowned beneath the static in my ear, “I need you to promise me something.”

My brows pulled in, and I moved toward her, instinctively placing my hands on her tense shoulders. She exhaled a shaky breath under my touch.

“Tell me, mon amour .”

She opened her eyes and met mine through the mirror.

“Promise me that after tonight?…?you’ll help me disappear.”

Disappear?

My chest tightened. “What?”

She stood up slowly and turned to face me, her fingers hooking through my belt to pull me closer.

Her face was bare. Honest. Cracked open.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she whispered. “I told you, Mister LeRoy. I’m done. With all of it. I want out. I want to remember who I was before the cameras, before the contracts, before I belonged to everyone and no one at the same time.”

Her voice shook, her eyes glassy.

“No human should be split open by this much noise. This collision of love and hatred, voices clawing at me, praise too heavy for a heart to hold, venom too bitter for a soul to survive.”

Her hand curled around the back of my neck as she rested her forehead against mine.

“I want to be free, Théo. I want silence. I want to know what it feels like to laugh without hearing it played back in a gossip clip. I want to cry and not see it turned into a headline. I want to exist without being dissected.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she didn’t wipe it away.

“I’m only human, but they sculpted me into a statue no one could love without destroying. No one should be this seen and this alone. It’s not a gift, Théo. It’s a curse carved into my skin.”

She took my hand and placed it against her heart.

“I want to dance without eyes. I want to sing only for myself. I want to run barefoot through lavender fields where no one knows my name. I want to swim and sleep and love and laugh until it hurts.”

Her fingers traced my face like they had that night in Fontaine.

“I want to live. Not as Scarlett Harper, the myth. But as Scarlett. The girl you found in the dark. The one you saved before she even knew she was drowning.”

Her lips brushed mine.

“I want to disappear, Théo. Hand in hand with you. Leave everything behind and start over where no one knows our names.”

My arms locked around her waist as her lips brushed my skin.

I swallowed her breath, a soft groan catching in my chest as she leaned back and cupped my face.

“Will you run away with me, Théo?”