Stolen by the Mafia Boss

a broken lightbulb. There was a dull throbbing

r senses before she even opened her eyes. When she did, the

g. No, the ca

weight of a seatbelt strapped across her chest and the distinct sound of

sa

a breath, her

who's

nt a fresh wave of fear down her spine.

d stolen her f

ighting barely illuminated his features, but she could see enough-the sharp cut of his jaw,

the world. Lik

breath

re are you

s gaze drifting from the pulse at her throat to the subt

usting the cuff of his expensive suit

her throat. "I do

into a slow, alm

iccola, and I might

re was no humor in his v

"I was just walking home. I

, he pulled out a crystal glass filled with dark amber liquid. Whiskey. He too

r na

m, but she knew th

hispered. "Li

ained unreadable.

nty-

htly, as if he was

u live

rted, but s

his eyes. "I suggest

lowed ha

if pleased.

r stomach. Why does

voice to sound stronger. "You have no right to keep m

urned, slow a

a, but you misunde

expensive cologne and something darker

long to

breath

N

er jawline. The touch was featherlight, almost

he murmured, his voice distur

dered from he

the column of her throat, rest

n't waste bea

t from fear-but from something far more dang

fell away, as if he'd already

almost conversational. "You don't fight me, you

a shaky breath

e turned

what happens to pe

tire body

ar sl

isted at the sight of a grand, sprawling est

awed at

n't goi

getting o

she fough