Mafia’s Girlfriend
“Sophia.”
She took a few steps in, running her fingers along a row of spines. “He’s given you the library. How kind.” Kind delivered with the undertones of anything but kindness.
“What do you want?”
She stopped walking and turned around so that she was facing me completely. Her expression was calm, but I could see something working behind it, something determined in the set of her jaw, in the utter stillness of her.
“I want you to understand something,” she said, her voice even and smooth. “No matter what you think is happening here, no matter what story you’ve cooked up about Damian, and this house, and yourself… it’s wrong.”
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