Raw Pleasures
It was him, reaching out from the shadows of his empire, dialing the number she had foolishly left behind.
And when Zara answered, yawning into the receiver, saying, “She’s sleeping, call you later, bye,” she unknowingly gave away more than she thought.
Alejandro stared at the card again as he set the phone down, running a thumb over the inked letters.
Alina Velasquez.
The name was soft. Feminine. But the painting had been anything but timid — raw, unflinching, alive. How could such an innocent-looking girl carry something so dark inside her?
Hot Chapters