Escaping the Pawn, Ensnaring the Don

ella

irt-stained fabric of my dress. I was a prisoner, a pawn sold by my own father, but as I stared into the shadows of the bedroom, a dangerous reali

nly leverage I had l

scent of expensive whiskey and bergamot filling the room. He

my trembling legs to lock

e surprisingly steady in the quiet room, "then

lness around him shifted into somethi

in. "A hundred dresses. If I am to serve yo

of my place. Instead, a dark, predatory smirk touched his lips. He closed the d

s thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

rcing me to sit. To my shock, he didn't strip me. He turned to the heavy woo

ingers applying the cooling ointment to my raw, salt-burned knees. The sting was sharp, but the unexpected, a

power. Damien groaned, a low, guttural sound, and took over the kiss, pushing me back against the pillows. We sealed our

ty. Through the thick walls, the low, rumbling voices of Damien and

nly fragmented, chilling words

ally returned to the bedroom, the dynamic had shifted. He didn't just pull me into his arms; he caged me against his c

g, my demanded

Fifth Avenue boutiques. Silk, lace, and cashmere spilled over the leather armchairs. For a fle

he walk

immaculate black-Eleonora Falcone's most trusted h

ded me a velvet box. Inside lay an exquisite ruby necklace. "A gift,

t, she produced a small, elegant

Prescribed by the family doctor to ensure your health

avily in the air. *No Falco

g a fortune in gold to any woman who could give Damien a child had been

e handmaide

t burned down my throat, incinerating my secret hope. I wasn't just Damien's

ge. I stared at the empty, elegant vial resting on the polished mahogany