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ella
fening compared to the mocking whis
powerful Mafia alliance in New York. Instead, Julian Falcone didn't show up. He publicly slaughtered our families' sacred pact for a rising ac
a revered bride to the laughingstock
er liquid. I needed to destroy something. I needed to prove I wasn't just a helpless victim. My eye
crisp uniform. I thought I was playing a game, using his calloused hands and sharp, pale throat to numb my p
ning sunlight dragged
wn at my bare, porcelain skin, covered in faint, bruise-like ma
ed, fully dressed in a pressed bl
lsion washed over me. I had slept
heavy crystal ashtray from the nig
ranite beneath a harsh crew cut, remained terrifyingly blank. His calm only fueled my hysteria. I grabbed
ieked, pulling the duvet up to my chin, my ch
ng strides, his sheer size and the scent of his cold cologne suffocating
e a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in my chest
I would not cower before the help. I had to regain control of this nigh
a promotion. You can be my secret lover. But you will neve
fragile bravado. He stepped even closer, his broad shoulders
authority in his tone freezing the bl
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