Click.The crystal chandelier flooded the room with light, and I squeezed my eyes shut.The iron grip on my wrist loosened.I could finally see the man on top of me.Marcello Falcone.He was shirtless, his tanned skin crisscrossed with a few vicious-looking scars that only added to his raw, masculine appeal.A massive black-and-white tattoo of two entwined snakes coiled from his left shoulder down to his chest, the fangs aimed right at his heart.He stared at me, his face a blank mask, but for some reason, I could see a hint of shock in his eyes.“Cecilia?”His voice was deep, laced with a rough, disbelieving edge.He quickly pulled away, grabbing a silk robe and shrugging it on with a fluid, controlled motion, as if the feral beast from a moment ago had never been there.I sat up, rubbing my bruised wrist, the last of the alcohol gone from my system.I realized I was in the master bedroom, not a guest room.“My apologies, Don Falcone,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sofia ga
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