The Don's Forbidden Muse
“No one touches what is mine and gets to live,” he replies firmly, sending a cold shiver down my spine.
“Alessandro, I am not yours. I am not anyone’s property,” I argue.
He laughs softly. “Okay,” he says casually, as if what I said doesn't matter.
“I mean it; I will never be yours—not your property, not your plaything, and certainly not your mistress,” I've already made it clear that I won't be his mistress; I don’t know why he can’t seem to accept that. His jaw tightens, then he scoffs.
“He threatened you, he touched you,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “It really didn’t matter if the device was his or not; he knew what was coming for him.”
In search of her missing father, Renée, a 24 y
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