The Mafia's Nanny (SPG)
I just wished he’d stop surprising me with the words that tumbled out of his mouth.
“You’re treating him like a dog.”
“Save it if you’ve got nothing kind to say.” I didn’t look at Yakov—kept my eyes on Levi’s face, where a small smile was starting to form.
Levi laughed then, a real sound, light and easy. I laughed too, and when I finally turned to Yakov, my stomach flipped. His jacket was twisted on his shoulders, his shirt wrinkled, and there was a smear of red lipstick on the corner of his mouth—dark as wine, bright as a wound.