Money Can't Buy Love
Could I love a man who had a hand in murdering another?
My breathing increased, and I sucked in a sharp breath. I was in love with him. And instead of being upset about it, as any other love-struck woman would be, I was angry. Not with him. Other than the whole mob thing, he’d been honest with me from the start. I had no doubt he had the best intentions, but I let myself fall so deep even with the mounting evidence against him.
“Should I pick up some wine for tonight?”
“Yes, please,” I said, needing to numb my brain, even if it was for a little while. “And I’ll make some pasta to go with it.”
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