Jilted Ex-Fiancée? The Ruthless Mafia Heiress!

hina'

rs catching the cabin light as he pulled glass fragments from my palm. Twelve stitches. The local anes

t the cold window and watche

nic when I w

fia princess privileges. No arranged marriage to a heir I'd never met. I'd wanted to

certain that love was something

al and not. Ambitious. Magnetic. A reputation for violence that clung to him like cologn

aid he'd never met anyone lik

ible family. No protection. And

touch because I was *independent now*, I was *making it on my own*. I packed his bullet wounds with gauze and prayed over hi

pale line on my left arm. Is

something together. That's what he'd called itbui

I was the only

attened my hair against my face. Through the window, I could see my father wai

apa. I don't need your protection. I'm going to find real love.* He hadn't argued. He'd just looked at

er, I was walk

tell me everything would be okay. He just looked at it-looked at my face, at the blood crusted under my fingern

me his

andled,

led if he's st

ndful of diamonds. The leather chair I'd spun in as a child. The desk I'd hidden under during mee

hair still smelle

far away, like it belonged to someone el

rown as mine-moved across my face, reading everything I wasn't s

een asking

my eyes

"He's waited six years. He never stopped asking. Ev

aphs-a serious-faced young man with quiet eyes-but I'd been too young, too stubborn, too convin

ad taught me the market v

ust slee

eptible, a flicker at the corner of his mou

nged. But I was to