Cognac Villain - A Mafia Romance

My real name is righ

aps the man on

der and tall, with a wiry frame and a shock of brown hair. He's got the same kind of

t in his ear. Both their scowls deep

at for w

of oppo

to tune in, I clamp the ruined halves of my dress together as best as I can, pirouette on my heel, a

uiet to fix my dress. Then I'm going to find Jor

I'll never see

O

ng for hours, twisting and turning down hall after hall. The one

ture was brutally sharp. Those lips had a cruel slant to them. And those eyes

e way he looked at me was a physical touch in an

lenty naked with a gaping rip

thin slice of light at the bottom beckons.

o a screec

n top of the sink. Their hair is expertly curled, their dres

e mirror with a straw pressed to her nostril. Her face is reflected on the surface

It's not a frown of surprise

own of re

says in shock.

dead name. A

One thought blares through my

run and run and run. High heels

my breath burns in my lungs. Then I burst through

e. I'm so tired I don't give a rat's ass about the fact that anyone who com

catch my breath, though, my heart co

me. She

ordelia. God, I ha

Cora

lia i

of fear never truly leaves my mouth. When I'm as

French doors. When I walk over, I realize the attached balcony looks out over the rear lawn. Most of the crowd has shuffled outside, so it

out of my purse. I press Jorden's contact and ho

ere'd you go? Thi

w that looseness in her voice, that cackle. The

l on m

tt dial. I'm coming to find you. One sec." I h

agle some kind of safety pin stopgap solution good enough to get me out of here without mooning every partygoer in

t if I can just wriggle out of it carefully and find a safety

ii

nd. I'm

limp, the dress parts in two like wilted flower petals and pools around my feet. I'm left stand

rse, is when

t hope that it's Jorden

's not

t Jorde