THE MAFIA BILLIONAIRE'S TEMPTATION

link of champagne flutes, but she felt like a ghost wandering through it-present, but never truly seen. She wasn't here to mingle. She was here to survive. Art was suppose

s, collectors, and fellow artists. She knew most of them, but none of them truly knew her. She was a face in th

had been sewn directly onto his body. His presence cut through the room like a blade, silent and sha

ous. Dangerous. He walked toward her, every step calculated, like a man who'd never heard the w

is way in a long time-like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, stari

oice low and foreign-Italian, mayb

kes," Emilia said, arching a br

urved his lips. "And do

, pulled out a small, black card, and held it out to her between t

of your work," he said,

she asked, not re

id. "That's all

m, as if it had been pressed to his skin for too long. She didn't know what she was doing-onl

r itself into her memory. She felt a shiver run down

him-something like spice and leather and danger-lingered in th

ouldn't end clean. A story that would unravel in unexpected

d conversation swelled, and the rain continued to slide down the windows like melting silver. But she was trapped in a dif