Sold to the mafia king

e, maybe-and the low murmur of voices outside my door. For a

Moretti's house

ent a shiver

eep from my eyes, only t

arp features-chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, and lips that looked almost too perfect for someone so cruel. H

rk eyes locking onto me, sen

," he c

eep, edged with dominance. T

floor. His gaze trailed over me, slow and deliber

breakfast wit

houlders. "And

t promised trouble. "Then

tomach. There was danger in his eyes, a

have be

something far

rac

-

ached, tension coiled tight in my muscles from the restless night before. I didn't want to feel co

n the door mad

e was deep, firm. "Yo

en I had a moment to myself,

d my body before peeking through the door. De

remarked, his gaze flick

et him see that. I brushed past him, head held high, bu