Betrayed, Then Claimed by the Mafia King (18+)
she retorts, a mischievous glint in her eye.
I throw my head back, laughing deeply. “Old, huh?” I repeat, still chuckling as I pick up my fork again. “I'm thirty-five, tesoro. Not exactly ancient.” I smirk across the table at her. “And you’re... what, twenty-three?”
“You know it’s twenty-one,” she responds quickly, as though defending her youth. “And soon though, I’ll be twenty-two... twenty-three, uh, yeah.” She shrugs her tiny shoulders, trying to act older than she is.