Trapped by the Mafia Boss
"It was a mistake, Sylvia. I don't think of her when I'm with you."
"Bullshit!" she cried, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. "Let me guess. She was tall, blonde, legs up to her neck, right? Someone who looked like a goddamn model?"
"Stop," I said, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away, clutching her dress to her chest like a shield.
"Show me a picture of her," Sylvia demanded, her jaw set, voice tight. "Show me what she looks like."
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