Entangled with the Mafia Don
He pinned her against him, using her height to mask his vitals.
"Drop it, De Luca!" Ivan roared. The manic edge in his voice was climbing toward a crescendo. He jammed the muzzle of his gold-plated Glock into Davina’s temple, the metal biting into her skin and forcing her head to a painful angle. "One more inch and I’ll paint this silk gown with her brains! Drop it or she dies right here!"
Davina’s eyes met mine. They were wide, glazed with a terrifying mix of shock and recognition, but she didn’t scream. Not yet. A single, crystalline tear tracked through the heavy stage makeup, and in that silent plea, I felt my soul catch fire.
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