Too Late To Beg: The Don's Regret

na

ed into me like

the first time the scent o

then, too. Eight m

rate for him to come home, to touch my belly,

bruise on his collar, I had screamed. I had cried

p of black lace at m

zed with vodka and hate. "Maybe then you

run for the stairs, blinde

ng my spine, the sickening crunch as I landed at the bottom. I

over me, walked out the front

t Mia out of me while I flatlined

the East Wing, and I was told I was

sited me in th

me against the wall. His forearm crush

ing!" he

k was immense. My visi

directly against my fresh incision. I could feel the stitch

. "You are obsessed with me. You stayed. You took

his free hand and tapped the s

f this very room, begging him not to leave fo

een in my face. "Look at how pathetic you

the screen. She looked

d back

, my voice raspy from the pressur

fro

ng of teeth from an animal caught in a trap, reali

und. "I stayed because Nonna threatened to put my father in a cement mixer

slightly. Confusio

you, Dante. I

id down the wall, clutch

ying," he

t him, my vis

f your money on myself in two years. I haven't slept in your bed in three.

," he said automat

eyes. "It do

up, using the

nte. Again. Becau

spreading on my shirt. His eyes

le

said. "Just