The Mafia King's Pregnant Captive Bride

ive roses, a suffocating perfume that failed to mask the rot of her jealousy. I stood b

er woman, Cecile's loyal enforcer, lo

ton dress. I was a Rossi. The last of my bloodline, a hostage

ff you," Bertha threatened,

l to the floor. I stood naked under the ha

," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Dirty Rossi blood. You are nothing but

fluttered to the floor-a La Perla lace lingerie set

re going to Damien's bed tonight.

ilk and lace over my sk

ce against my pale skin seemed to snap something inside

ra

ly burning with a fierce, stinging heat. I didn't flinch. I didn't raise a hand to protect

hot against my face. "You are a tool. If you dare to harbor any delusions of grandeur, I will erase

hispered, keeping

f, satisfied she had broken

y for me. The stark white Italian marble and blinding chrome fixtures offere

yingly calm. There were no tears. The Rossi family had bled

stark red bloom on my cheek. My skin was notoriously sensitive

tched him from the shadows. I knew he possessed a dark, obsessive protect

y cheek. I rubbed and kneaded the flesh mercilessly until the red deep

down hard. A sharp copper taste flooded my mouth as

k lace was a masterpiece of vulnerability. Cecile thought she had gi

pped against the

s gravelly voice called out

from my chin, unlocked the do