Runaway Mistress: The Mafia Boss Begs On His Knees

rilled straight into my temples, the light unflattering and ha

mbling only slightly as I forced the t

have in

use the Moretti

eserved for the fami

ave me with a sewing kit I had p

was a sharp, stinging r

the cheri

collater

iggered a memory, pulling my mind back to

k then, a stark contrast to the scent of Italian si

me of the market floor in a three-thous

care about

ly sa

y the rival gang fi

to the ground, the world t

th his own, shielding me fro

ruined, but he had looked down at m

had whispered, wiping soot from

h my teeth, the taste of

ook a bomb fo

e fireplace was alive and well, probably ho

g my side where the cold from the indu

aiting in t

ir out of place, untouched by

on my head, and for a s

he blinked it away instantly,

ched her," he said, his

umorless sound that

ist, Dante. You c

stepping closer, closing the distance b

milk. It affects the h

king the word he used t

me part of t

ulders, his grip

Elena. Don't mak

dy the villain

im, burying his face i

inst my skin. "It's always been

rigid in

t used to be

felt lik

," he promised, pulling b

bandage on my forehead, a tend

ack to her. She

said, stepping

your

ed to say more, as if words could fix the

to drive you home

heading toward the elevator

n't lo

looked ba

ight of his body shielding me from a bom

back then only to d

ode anymore, Dante," I whi

leaving the hospital-and t