Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don

ella

swallowed the dim light, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and polished leath

g. With a heavy sigh, I kicked off the agonizingly tight, pearl-encrus

rted forward, her hands trembling. "Put them back on! If the Don sees you

ching my aching arches. "I highly doubt the D

e pleaded, her voice dropping to a t

he knew the bloody reputation of Damien Russo better than I did. Reluctantly, I slipped my bruised feet back into

d her head and scurried into the adjoining dressing roo

o stepped i

e-piece suit that radiated danger and absolute authority. His jet-black hair was combed back flawless

he silence that follo

ction to him. My father got the Russo family's protection, and Damien got the Rossi le

his cuff shifted, I caught a glimpse of a faded, jagged scar on his

passive object i

ly, deliberately, I lifted the veil myself, tossing it back over my dark curl

ker of genuine shock. I saw his chest stall mid-breath, a silent *Bell

vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling indifference. Without a word, he turne

, a blatant disrega

room, and closed the distance between us. As he reached

asked, my voice low, laced

the amber liquid. He di

is voice a smooth, freezing bariton

ction. "Just 'acceptable'?" I countered, refusing to back down.

ed on the cry