Masked don
My ex called me fat over the microphone at a mafia masquerade.
A masked stranger silenced him.
“Speak to my fiancée like that again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Apparently, I have a new type. Deadly.
Silver at his temples.
Blood-red ink across his knuckles.
One threat, and my ex’s smirk dies.
“Your fiancée?”I whisper.
“Let the bastard watch what he lost.”
I should go home.
Instead, I follow him upstairs, his hand at my spine, his commands in my ear.
That night, I let the st... [Read More...]
