Breaking The Cage: The Mafia Wife's Revenge

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xedos and glittering diamonds. The air was heavy with

night where truces were honored and

n my face. My hand rested absentmindedly on my stomac

ed in twenty

That was the effect Michael Thorne had. He didn't ju

ost more than most people's cars. His dark hair was pe

ond, his eyes widened. T

tance with long, confident strides.

ed in, kissing my chee

unning, Liv,

" I asked, keepi

ing back. "Boring New Yor

or my waist.

d. "What'

over the room. A deeper, heavier si

e of the crowd tow

as standi

clung to every curve like a second skin, with a slit that slashe

woman fro

na C

asn't alone. She was on the arm of a minor associate from t

hus

. His hand on my waist tightened

doing here?

't answer. H

ted for her, sensing the drama like sharks se

eautiful in a cheap, flashy way. Too much makeup. Too

. "You forgot your ti

and pulled out a silver tie

went de

ion of war. She was claiming him. In front of my

at the clip. He

his voice tight. "T

ttle, tinkling sound. She turned her e

a, right? Michael talks about you. He sa

ser, invading m

he whispered, loud enough fo

. Rage, hot and blindi

said. My voice shook,

eld a glass of red wi

," sh

ress. The red liquid soaked into the red silk, turning it a dark,

led throug

Michael. I waited for him to grab her. To throw

rowd. He saw the judgme

looked

he hissed. "Go upstairs and

red a

make a

ssaulted me

th. "She's a guest of the New York delegation. I

nd took her elbow, guiding her away from the center

hose

r me. He chose his mi

y the bar. She had set her glass down so hard the stem had sna

ght her eye and gave a micros

s al

l the eyes of every man and woman in the ro

r my stomach, over t

ry. I didn

t of the ballroom. My head wa

, Olivia T