To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss
His eyes blazed with fury, his jaw clenched, his anger barely contained.
“Oh, come on,” he spat, his voice tight with frustration. “I don’t like you. In fact, I never did.”
Tumawa ako.
“Really? Well then, say that to my face,” I challenged, my voice firm, my tone unwavering. “Look me in the eyes and say it.”
He hesitated, his gaze wavering, his anger momentarily replaced by a flicker of something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, he stepped back, his expression hardening, his eyes losing the playful glint. His voice was cold, devoid of emotion.
Bab Populer