Sinfully His
he asks, as if reading my thoughts.
“The good and the bad,” I confess. “But what matters is — I'm here to make new ones.”
Ric smirks at my words, guiding me up the wooden steps to the entrance. From here, the lake house stands majestic and subtle, a secluded haven in the middle of the forest. It’s the kind of place that only someone with money — serious money, like my father — would own, with its rustic charm concealing the latest amenities. The dark, polished wood and large glass windows merge with the towering pines surrounding it, almost camouflaging it within the forest.