Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel]
It’s still early, there’s no need to provoke him unnecessarily.
Every now and then, I shoot Dante a curious look, then a glare when he nods towards my food, telling me without words to keep eating.
Soon enough, I feel so full that I might burst. Still, I struggle to swallow the last bite, downing it with generous gulps of water, that by the time it goes down I was panting from the effort.
Cold sweat began to bead on my forehead, and I subconsciously wipe at it.
“There, done.” But before I could even get the last word out, I heave heavily, the food threatening to come back up.
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