The Mafia Don's Regret: Torturing His True Savior

na

re i

was a low, subt

pital bed, gripping my rig

finger

the sterile white tiles of the ceiling. "Must

ia

pocket and ext

it directly from

t discard

he ring back

st the knuckle, hard enough

ack as if the intimacy disgusted him. "

," I said, my

n cr

r, we were o

he flagship store fo

dle that had been kicked too many tim

in a black

ses to hide the dark cir

there, o

space, pointing at bags sh

!" Joyce

in the auction house next door, v

silver.

ook

my throat, turning

a silve

her's

it to pay a gambling debt ba

ly thing I ha

I said, my voice tremblin

he locket, then at

ever keeps

d the auc

erway, the air thick with t

llars," I said,

and," a vo

as J

t me, predato

ousand,

," Joyce count

king his watch. "Jo

it, Austen!

dn't w

w I wan

ousand,

aughed, twirling

tience thinning. "Let her have the tri

" I

use

N

, my heart hammeri

llion d

went deat

er choked on

me, his jaw tig

ueaked, recovering his co

usten's

n dollars of his money for a pi

scre

er foot, like a petula

She's moc

s arm, his fingers di

his eyes remained fixed on me with

rned

king garage. Dri

door to buy her ice cream or diamon

, clutching the locket so ha

he designat

er wasn'

hemselves from behin

en't Bal

thugs, hired musc

egards," one of them grinn

n't he

ed me in

rack before I

urling around the locket

kicke

ice. Thr

n't touc

d me broken

ir on the oil-stained floo

one b

from

at Daddy's house. We're c