Page 71 of Sinful Desires (Sinful #4)

Chapter

Fifty-Four

“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”

― E.E. Cummings

Scarlett

“ Mi dispiace, dolcezza . Please forgive us. Forgive me.”

I brought the phone closer to my ear, eyes locked on Théo’s bare back stretched out across our bed, all delicious thick muscle and tattoos. He lay naked, the cover having slipped down to his waist, his face buried in my pillow, skin still damp with sleep and sweat.

His body didn’t move, drained and wrecked, the way he only got when I’d made him make love to me endlessly. His shoulders rose with each breath, slow and deep.

A miracle had happened last week. His father had woken up.

Fourteen years .

Fourteen years of machines, silence, and waiting. And he’d opened his eyes, still holding his son’s hand.

He never let go.

The hospital staff had come running. Some were crying. Some were whispering prayers. Every single one of them pushed into the room just to witness it. They said it felt like something sacred had happened, something too impossible for science to explain.

When Théo had called me, his voice had cracked. Rough, breathless, stunned.

He couldn’t even say the words. I ran. We all ran. His mother beside me, gripping my arm like it was the only thing holding her up.

She collapsed the second she saw her husband alive. Her body hit the floor. But she woke up in his arms.

Cried in the arms of the man she thought she’d already lost forever.

The doctors said he wouldn’t be able to speak for a while. His vocal cords were bruised, stiff, almost foreign to him now.

He tried, but it hurt.

Still, he could understand us. He could recognize faces, track our movements, squeeze Théo’s hand. His left leg responded. His right might never move again, but it was a miracle all the same.

And maybe that’s what it took.

Maybe it took a son to come back and finally ask for forgiveness.

To forgive himself first.

“It’s okay, Mama ,” I whispered, my eyes drifting over the sea beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, the water calm, the first light stretching across it in quiet gold.

She cried on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s not, dolcezza . I asked for a divorce. I don’t want to be married to him anymore. Not after what he did to you. I know I’m late. Twenty years late. But I?…?I loved him, Scarlett. And I thought—” she broke down again, the sound of her sobs mixing with a muffled shuffle.

Then Kiara’s voice cut in behind her as she took the phone. “Hey. Mama has lost her mind this past month. We’re just happy you finally answered one of our calls.”

Since the night I’d found out he was the one who’d allowed the video to leak.

The man who’d let the world watch his own daughter in that position.

So intimate. So exposed.

I couldn’t. I’d needed space.

And if I was being honest, I was still angry. Angry they’d never defended me.

But after last week?…?I realized maybe I needed closure too.

Closure doesn’t give you back the years, the teenage nights I never had with my little sister, or the version of my mother I might have known if fame and money hadn’t torn us all apart. But maybe it could create a bridge for us to finally reach a better place.

Maybe we could find our way back to being a happy family.

Like we had been when I was a kid.

“We just bought a house,” I said softly, the words feeling too fragile. “Maybe one day you could come visit. I know things are complicated, and all I ever wanted was for you both to be safe. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

My mother’s sobs quieted into a trembling breath.

“Don’t worry, dolcezza . Angelo promised nothing will happen to us. We’re Lazzios, remember? La famiglia stays together. Always.”

I chatted with them for a while, catching up even though my heart stayed tight in my chest.

I guess family really was a complicated thing.

How sad that it was the ones closest to you who could harm you the most, yet somehow be the only ones capable of healing you too.

When I finally hung up, I sat still for a moment, eyes on the sea.

Then I felt strong arms circle my waist and the familiar weight of his head settle into the curve of my neck.

Théo’s voice came out low, deliciously rough with sleep. “ Bonjour , mon amour .”

I turned around slowly, wrapping my arms around his neck. His nose brushed against mine as he leaned in.

“Never thought Italian could sound so hot,” he murmured. “If I knew, I would’ve forced you to speak it sooner.”

I smiled. “Not as hot as French, mon chéri .”

Over the last few weeks, Théo had been teaching me a little French. The basics. Bonjour . Au revoir . Merci . Je ne sais pas .

And then the other things.

The kind of words that made my cheeks burn.

The kind of words he said against my throat, slow and filthy, with that voice that made me forget everything else.

Words I wouldn’t dare say out loud unless he made me. And God, he always made me.

“I need you to get ready fast. I have a little surprise for you.”

My hands landed on his bare chest, right next to the lavender bouquet tattoo inked along his ribs. My heart still fluttered every time my eyes found it.

A few days ago, he’d added a new one. A shooting star, inked just above it.

“Is it the kind of surprise I like?” I asked, rising onto my toes, my lips brushing his as his hands slid lower, gripping my ass.

“The kind you love,” he said roughly, and I licked his bottom lip with a teasing flick.

“Okay.”

He smacked my ass and kissed me, hard and quick, before heading to the bathroom.

“Wear a dress, baby.”

“What would you do around here when you were a kid?”

His hand was locked with mine, resting on my lap as he drove along the countryside road hugging the sea.

White horses ran wild across the beach as we passed, their bodies streaked with salt and wind, free in a way most people never got to be. The breeze was soft. The air smelled of the ocean, of warm earth and sunlight clinging to our skin.

Captain Pascal had delivered us a new car a few days ago. A roofless Porsche, red like my hair, fast and loud.

As we sped along the coast, my hair flew into my face, my grin untamed and wide, drunk on morning light, love, and speed.

“We’d come to the beach a lot,” Théo said, his voice low, eyes on the road. “Sometimes the castle, if the weather turned. We’d surf. Play volleyball. Cause trouble.”

A quiet smile curled at his lips.

“France values quality time over quantity. It’s never about how long you’re with someone, only how deeply you live inside that moment. The people you love, they get everything. Sometimes, the best days were the ones we spent sitting on the sand, laughing at nothing, dreaming about everything.”

“I love that,” I whispered.

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

We drove in silence after that, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Just the wind, the waves, and his fingers wrapped around mine.

Then he cleared his throat, casually. “Check the glove compartment.”

I raised an eyebrow, but reached forward and popped it open. Inside was a black sleeping mask.

I held it up.

“Really? Is this your way of introducing a new kink?”

His mouth twitched. “Put it on.”

I slipped it over my eyes, laughing. “God, you’re lucky I trust you. If you pull out rope next, I swear?—”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound rich and wicked. The car began to slow, then came to a smooth stop. A beat of silence.

Warm hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and his mouth found mine. Then he pulled away.

The door opened. I heard his steps round the car, the soft crunch of gravel under his shoes. A second later, my door swung open and his hands were back, this time pulling me to my feet.

One hand held mine. The other found my hip.

“Walk slowly,” he murmured in my ear, voice low and far too amused. “One step at a time, sweetheart. Try not to trip. I like my surprises delivered in one piece.”

He guided me forward, his palm steady on my back. The breeze had cooled, and the soft hum of crickets filled the evening air.

We walked for what felt like minutes, my steps cautious, his body always close. Then he stopped me. His fingers brushed my cheek, and he slid the blindfold off.

I gasped.

Oh, my God .

We were standing in the middle of a lavender field. Endless acres of soft purple swayed under the evening sky.

At the center, lit by hundreds of tiny flames, stood a dinner table. Candles flickered in tall glass holders. Two wine glasses glinted in the golden light. Above, arching like something from a dream, was a suspended rainbow of white roses and purple peonies.

My hand flew to my mouth as tears filled my eyes.

It wasn’t just a lavender field.

It was the lavender field, the one from the painting in my condo. The one I’d ordered from a little gallery in Mexico. The one with a figure running wild and naked through the violet sea, arms open, hair flying, free. Me .

Théo’s hand dropped gently to mine. He didn’t say anything, just walked me to the table, and helped me into my chair. He sat across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.

On the plates in front of us sat silver domes.

“Look under, baby.”

I reached for mine with trembling fingers.

When I lifted the cover, there wasn’t food. There was a piece of parchment, sealed with red candle wax.

My breath caught as I peeled the wax away and opened it with shaking hands.

Scarlett,

All my life, I searched for a way out of the dark.

Not the kind with no light, but the kind where you forget how to live.

I never thought anything could touch what was broken in me.

Until you.

You didn’t just save me.

You saw me. The real me.

You are the wish I sent into the sky without even knowing I was asking for something.

You are the answer the stars whispered back.

Mon étoile filante

I have loved you in silence. I have loved you in shadows.

And now I want to love you in light.

Every day. Every night. Every piece of forever.

Will you marry me?

I turned, expecting to find him in his seat, but it was empty.

He was kneeling beside me, one hand steady on the ground, the other holding open a velvet box.

Inside sat a heart-shaped diamond the color of lavender, deep and glowing.

I gasped.

It was a Royal Purple Heart.

My breath caught.

“I told you before, Scarlett,” he said, his grey eyes burning. “I belong to you. My heart, my body, my soul. You already own them. Now I want the world to know it. I want to belong to you in every way that exists.”

His eyes locked on mine as he spoke the words softly, carefully.

“ Veux-tu m’épouser? ”

I cried.

The second he said it, the second his hands stopped trembling, I broke open.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Yes, Théo.”

He slipped the ring onto my finger, then pulled me into his arms, circled my waist, and lifted me off the ground.

He spun me through the air, fast and wild, until my laughter shook out of me and my arms locked around his neck.

Then he slowed, breathing against my cheek.

“Now,” he murmured, “I have one last surprise.”

I nodded, dazed and glowing.

He turned and gestured to the field that stretched beyond us. “It’s all yours.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me with a soft smile. “I bought seven acres of this field, baby. Your own lavender field.”

My mouth parted.

“You can do anything with it. Keep it as it is. Make oils, perfumes, shampoos. I don’t care. Whatever your heart wants. But also?—”

His hands slid down the back of my dress, fingers finding the zipper.

He pulled it slowly, letting the fabric fall from my shoulders until it slipped to the earth.

I stood there in nothing but white lace, the scent of lavender curling through the air.

“You can make one of your biggest desires come true,” he said against my neck.

His hand unclasped my bra. My nipples tightened under the cool air before the lace fell to the ground with a whisper.

Then my thong followed, and his lips trailed down my throat.

His fingers cupped me between my legs. I moaned, my head falling back against his shoulder.

“Go,” he whispered. “But don’t let me catch you. Because if I do?…” His teeth brushed my ear. “I’ll fuck you so slow you’ll wish I never found you.”

I laughed, breathless and already aching, and ran—barefoot and naked, through the rows of lavender as the evening deepened around us.

Stars bled into the sky.

And behind me, my fiancé chased me through the field he’d given me.

Freedom and love filled my lungs as I screamed with laughter as he hunted me through the purple.

This time, no one was watching. There was no past, no grief, no cameras, no lies.

Just me and the man I loved who had saved me from myself.

My star in the darkness.

My protector.

Mon amour .

And my mind couldn’t help but go back to that night years ago, on my rooftop pool.

What’s your biggest desire?

To live, Scarlett .

What if mine is to die, Théo?

Now I wish I could go back.

Because my greatest desire was no longer just freedom or fame or success.

It was this.

To live. Fully.

Forever, in his arms.

And this wild, trembling, lavender-soaked love story was ours.

And ours only.