The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.
“Not even close, sweetheart.”
Sherry felt her heart sink. “Just… don’t throw me out,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. Dallion’s expression shifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and after a pause, he laughed.
“Relax, little mouse. I’ve got something much more entertaining in mind than tossing you into the cold night.” Walking to his bedside, he reached for a small book from a drawer. Its cover was beautifully engraved, and Sherry’s stomach flipped when she recognized it. The title on the cover indicated it was a script for a mafia drama often performed for high society events.
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