Master of Her Sins
J. Crossone night stand with my bosshe stares at me from a distance but ignores meguy glowing at tablecold hearted boss gangster quotes
Seb
FOR THREE years, I carried a piece of scorched metal in my pocket—the only remnant recovered from the vehicle explosion that supposedly claimed her life.
The family called it a t ragedy. The syndicate called it closure.
I called it a lie.
“We’ve secured the perimeter, Boss,” Matteo said, stepping into the dim light of my private study.
I didn’t look up from the security monitors displaying the various angles of the penthouse hallway.
On the central screen, Bela was sitting on the edge of the bed, her chin resting in her hands, staring blankly at the floor. The emerald green dress wrinkled around her knees.