“What’s with all these tattooed men carrying such scary, loaded weapons? Are you the mafia of the werewolf clans or something?” Camille asked Dante the next morning as a dozen men followed them around when they were ready to leave.He ignored her.“Dude has some serious issues,” she complained to Olive while they hugged and exchanged goodbyes. “He was squeezing my thighs under the table, making me choke on my breakfast half the time, and now he’s acting like I’m invisible.”“You can make him regret it,” Olive said with a chuckle. “You have about an hour with him in the car. Make him your slave and let him live between those thighs until you have to push him away.”An armed man opened the passenger door to a black Bentley, helping her step in. Dante was already in the back seat, lost in a phone call that sounded serious.The door next to her softly shut while Dante opened his laptop to look up some confidential video footage that was sent to him. As he snapped out orders in Italian ove
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