His Dangerous Love: The Writer And The Don

Sterl

just red-it was the c

my bed with a handwritten note from D

a black-tie masquerade of power where the city's e

vast, undulating sea of black tuxedos and glittering gowns. Crystal chandeliers cast fractu

nd unyielding. He scanned the room with predatory precision, offerin

d. The ambient chatter didn

grand entrance like the

that looked lethal. She wore gold, shimmering like a deity who had descended to judge the mortals. She walked wi

, Dante w

asked, my voice

rinding through his clenched teeth.

lips-a sharp, surgical expression that didn't reach her eyes. Sh

slight, smoky Italian accent. She looke

ged, his tone flat. "I t

on his chest, claiming the space right over his

s, my simple jewelry, and my face. She looked at me not with curiosity,

asked, arching a scul

g slightly in front of me, shieldin

e flutes shattering. "Is that the polite term we are using now? In Chicag

he air leav

waist, his fingers digging in

ensuring I caught every syllable. "You know the arrangement. The Vitiellos and the Morettis. You and me.

aze back to me, h

e girl," she said. "Try

ed away, leaving a trail of he

h twisting into a knot

I asked, my v

he crowd, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violen

iness, Aria," h

ds cut deeper than Sof

way from his as i

ir," I ch

stung my eyes. I wasn't his biographer. I wasn't his mistress. I was a paw

wrapping around me, I realized something else. Sofia Moretti hadn't just looked at me

e a pawn. She

e Mafia Princess saw me as a threat, it meant Dante Vitiello

he balcony opened behind

said to the city skyline.

was right behind my ear, low and vibrating with

back. His hands slammed onto the railing on either

I whispered to the glit

y. I felt his lips brush my skin, hot branding iron against

t to ash," he growled against my pu