Kidnapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Don

nt

sting to be slung over the broad shoulder of a dashing 6'4 mob boss and taken away, but here we are. What a beautiful paradox Salvatore Mori is. His mugshot-style appearance on the homepage of the FBI's

gh the rear of the club, one of my brand-new high heels takes off and disappears. The fact that I am so naively turned on makes me feel even more ashamed. A part of me enjoys how he abuses me and how powerless I am under his control. similar to carrying a youngster to her timeout. A truly dangerous man's attention has awakened something wild and reckless in me. He ignites my blood in a way that no one else has. "Sal!" Down the hallway, a voice yells. I'm not sure who it is, but my ass draped over Salvatore's shoulder is what he sees when he first sees me. Sal responds, "Noctus." He lets me stand up again. It's not chilly enough in here to explain why my nipples are hard, so I cross my arms over the front of my torn dress, feeling exposed. Lance sits on the ground near the exit, bewildered, rubbing a towel into his bleeding head wound. This foreigner, Noctus, is between me and the only other obvious exit, while Salvatore towers between me and the path back. How in the hell did Lance end up? He has trouble speaking. Was this something she did? Noctus's gaze flickers to me and my unkempt appearance. "My property was touched by your brother. I corrected him. Th