Bound By Blood To The Mafia King

ce of the penthouse offered a dizzying view of E

nts and a tight black t-shirt. Sitting across from him were Arley

d three unloaded, heavy-duty handguns. They were speaking in low, rapid voices,

leading to the living room

nstantly. Arley casually tossed

e button-down dress shirts. It was massive on her, falling to her mid-thigh. The top thr

the blood loss, but the oversized shirt and her bare

his eyes. She was interrupting syndicate business, and she was wal

his voice hard and uncompromis

toward him. She moved like a cat seeking a heat source. She bypas

against his solid bicep, pressin

ned, her voice soft, nasal, and d

hove her off him. He raised his hand to push her shoulder, but he felt how genuinely co

use butler stepped onto the terra

of pan-seared beef liver. It was cooked rare. Blood pooled around the edges of

d. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her e

he gasped, turning her fa

two pints of blood. Your iron le

illed with fake tears. She reached out and grabbed the hem

He let out a harsh, frustrated sigh. He reached forward, picking up the heavy silver knife and fork. He cut the meat into small pieces, intending to leave it at that. But Ashlyn didn't move to take th

n the terrace

the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to suppress a

eaming at each other in the car. He had told her she was a whore. Now, she was

ing her ear. "Stop pushing me,

face into the crook of his neck. Her war

he glass tipped over, sending a wave of ice water directly across the map Arley had used to cover the handguns. Arley cursed, lung

ocked onto the red circled coordina

r bite. She had just secured her cover, humiliated him in front of