Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress
The grovelling man cups his face as he tumbles to the side.
“Lift him up,” Don Valentino orders darkly as he removes his jacket, handing it to one of the five men under his command in the room, and he slowly begins to roll the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.
Nibbling on my lower lip, I admire the tattoos that decorate his toned forearms, but I quickly look away when Don Valentinos’ gaze collides with mine. When I look back at him, his gaze finds mine again, and he reaches into the pockets of his slacks, extracting a pair of gold-dusted knuckle busters.
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