My Mafia Mate
“I have the money to do so. Why not? Unless you’re jealous.”
Jealous? The word seemed to echo in the room, reverberating in the walls and floors, crawling up my skin as if taunting me.
Was I jealous? My wolf, still dormant, offered no insight, and I felt strangely alone. The room seemed to close in on me, and it was as if the walls themselves were asking the same question: Are you jealous, Ella?
“Jealous?” I finally managed to scoff, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. “Why would I be jealous of you taking a pointless vacation?”
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