The Mafia's Forced Bride
She was wearing pajamas and a cardigan, her hair loose around her shoulders.
"You scared me," I said, pressing a hand to my racing heart.
"Sorry," Natasha said, not looking particularly sorry. "I've been up for hours. Jet lag from all the moving around, I think. Or just... everything." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Join me?"
I sat down, tucking my legs underneath me. "What are you reading?"
Natasha held up the book so I could see the spine. The Count of Monte Cristo. "Seemed appropriate. A story about revenge and redemption and whether the two can ever really coexist."