Psychopathic love.
“I’m not sure if I understand.”
“You know, Kiara,” He rubbed his thumb over her lip, looking down at her with lust-filled eyes. “I always thought you were too smart for your own good.”
“Luca, can you let me go first? Then, we can talk.” She pleaded.
“Don’t struggle or the cuffs will bruise you.” He said with a sharp edge to his voice. His voice sounded cold—ruthless.
“You know the disadvantage of intelligence?” He pushed himself off of her, now resting on her side, admiring the young lady beside him. “It’s that no one ever understands you. I get it, I do. I was once in your shoes.”
Bab Populer