The Mafia Devil’s Contractual Wife
I cleared my throat awkwardly, brushing invisible dust off my black mourning dress, my cheeks burning.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” I muttered, mortified beyond belief.
One of them nodded seriously, his Italian accent thick and concerned.
“The tiles are dangerous, signora. Molto pericoloso [Very dangerous].”
“Thank you, thank you,” I gave a weak laugh, part nerves, part oh-my-God-what-is-happening, and straightened my dress again.
“ Is your boss in?” I asked.
“Yes, Signora, the Don is in,” one answered quickly, almost tripping over his own boots in his haste.
Hot Chapters