Claimed by My Mafia King
I sat up abruptly and turned on the bedside lamp.
Four-thirty in the morning. Still pitch dark outside.
I picked up my phone, opened the notes app, and started typing.
If we were going to cohabitate, there would be rules.
Clear, specific, enforceable rules.
I was a lawyer. Drafting agreements was what I did.
My fingers flew across the screen.
Rule one: Brode Ramsden shall not, under any circumstances, enter Evelyn Winchester's bedroom. This includes but is not limited to knocking, forced entry, keypad override, or directing others to open the door on his behalf.
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