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ella
swallowed the dim light, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and polished leath
g. With a heavy sigh, I kicked off the agonizingly tight, pearl-encrus
rted forward, her hands trembling. "Put them back on! If the Don sees you
ching my aching arches. "I highly doubt the D
e pleaded, her voice dropping to a t
he knew the bloody reputation of Damien Russo better than I did. Reluctantly, I slipped my bruised feet back into
d her head and scurried into the adjoining dressing roo
o stepped i
e-piece suit that radiated danger and absolute authority. His jet-black hair was combed back flawless
he silence that follo
ction to him. My father got the Russo family's protection, and Damien got the Rossi le
his cuff shifted, I caught a glimpse of a faded, jagged scar on his
passive object i
ly, deliberately, I lifted the veil myself, tossing it back over my dark curl
ker of genuine shock. I saw his chest stall mid-breath, a silent *Bell
vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling indifference. Without a word, he turne
, a blatant disrega
room, and closed the distance between us. As he reached
asked, my voice low, laced
the amber liquid. He di
is voice a smooth, freezing bariton
ction. "Just 'acceptable'?" I countered, refusing to back down.
ed on the cry
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