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“You are a feisty little kitten,” he sneers.
Holy fuckballs, Leo. What have you done? Dante Moretti is Mafia. He is THE Mafia.
When did my life become so small and dark and meaningless that I take comfort in the most trivial things?
He crosses the room and stands right in front of me. A solid wall of muscle, ink, and sex.
“Then start timing me,” he growls.
“A whore,” I whisper. I hate that word. It’s one that’s used to degrade women, but I don’t know how else to describe how she made me feel.
Years of anger and rage and frustration and sorrow pour out of me as I soak his chest with my tears. And he just lets me. He doesn’t tell me everything is okay, or try to make me feel better. He doesn’t talk or shush me. He just lets me be.
Vita mia. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata .”
