Beauty and the Mafia Beast
I touch his cheek, my fingers brushing rough stubble above his well-kept beard, and suddenly an idea sparks.
My new phone sits on the nightstand. Carefully, I stretch my arm and grab it. He doesn’t stir. Good. I swipe the screen, open the camera, and tilt it so both of us are in the frame. Zeke Russell, mafia kingpin, ruthless killer… snuggling against my neck like a fucking cat.
Click.
Another one—this time I look at him, my lips tilted in a smirk.
Nothing. No reaction. He’s out cold.
I toss the phone aside and hug him closer, burying my face into his chest, forcing myself back to sleep.
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