A BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA LORD
Bishop muttered, clearly annoyed.
“Why would I?” I raised an eyebrow at him, still watching the dog.
“Because it’s a stray dog, idiot,” he snapped. “I don’t want some grass-eating thing hanging around here.”
“Dogs don’t eat grass,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Yes, they do!” Bishop shot back, his face scrunched in disgust. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. It was funny how seriously he took things sometimes.
“Dogs are—”
Bab Populer