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To all the girls who go weak in the knees when he says, “You’re doing such a good job, baby.”
Because the truth is, he nailed something on the head. I don’t know if the fire is real. All I know is that it only really started to come out after I met him.
“You can’t show anyone how you really feel, can you? You’re too busy pretending to be perfect for your papa’s sake. So you suppress all that rage, and then you take it out on me.”
“You should thank God that your loyalty will never require you to sell your body to another. That Damiano will never ask you to let a stranger take you home and spend years pumping you full of his children.”
I can’t remember the last time someone stood up for me this way. Not because of what their disrespect meant to my family, but because of how it affected me.
She huffs, slumps in her seat, and stuffs a piece of bread into her mouth, her furious gaze still fixed on Rafaele. My fiancé lifts his glass of wine and takes a slow sip. Is he taunting her? It’s saying something that Cleo can get under Rafaele’s skin.
This isn’t about protecting my family. It’s about protecting him.
Your brother’s not a pawn, Gemma. He orchestrated all of it.”
When I don’t answer, he groans. “Fuck me. No, honestly, fuck me. This is what I get for having this friendly mug, isn’t it? If I looked like a mean motherfucker, you wouldn’t have come to me with this bullshit.”

