The Mafia's Kidnapped Bride
His face was a masterpiece of sharp angles, but it was his eyes that held me captive—cold golden eyes, and entirely devoid of mercy.
“You’re mine now,” he said flatly, as if he were stating a fact as simple as the weather.
“Please,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “I don’t know how I got here. I was kidnapped! This is a mistake. Just let me go. I’ll do anything.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from bored to mildly amused. “A mistake? That’s cute.”
“I’m serious,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t belong here. Please.”
Bab Populer