The Mafia Lord And His Spy Lover (Book 1)
“I saw you dipping a pastry in your coffee and you’re talking about being a grown-up?”
“It’s a style,” she argued.
“It’s bullshit,” I said.
“At least, someone shares my view on that,” a harsh voice conferred, and I turned to look, only to see Lorelai Trentino, the tall, dark-haired man, descending the stairs. “It tastes even more awful than it looks.”
I smirked at Savana, who retorted with a snort. Turning to her husband, she said, “This is why I like your brothers much better. They share my opinion.”
Bab Populer