The Mafia King's Regret: She Moved On

ed to comfort me. Now

na!

he compound's service entrance. She was breathles

uffed, shoving the warm wicker into my arms. "Fresh focacc

row the basket

it bled, anything to purge the

e mercy of the Vitiello family. We p

" I wh

t, using it as a shield, and h

e floor tiles, counting them-one, two, three

sharply, trying to m

with an unyie

wind out of me. The bas

ed bread tumbled

n the

Italian suit that cost mor

e f

d down the lapel, leaving a dark, greasy trail o

d up, t

ared down at the

yell. He d

ecoi

hirt with two fingers, his face twisting into a mask of abs

, reaching out instinctively to b

flinch

re I could make contact, as

," he

ok at thi

, sharp, and dripp

oom. The Capo's daughter. She was wearing white

ttered bread, then at

" she drawled. She tossed the protein bar to him. "Here. Re

ar. He looked at B

nded by the ruins of

chest; I had spent months researching his diet, ensuring the dough

to the air, refusing to look

walked away with Bianca, lea

oked her head out from a su

red. "It's just a s

voice hollow. "So