The Sex Symbol the Don Will Never Keep
I’ve got a killer hourglass figure and siren eyes. In Hollywood, I’m the ultimate sex symbol.
But after five years in this town, not a single producer would dare lay a finger on me.
Because the man in my bed is Don Vincenzo, the most ruthless mafia boss in New York.
Seven years together. Every time we finished, he’d hold me close, kiss me, and carry me to the bathroom to clean me up.
I naively thought I’d be the only woman by his side. That I'd even be his Donna.
Until the night of my 28th birthday. After the family dinner, I heard him sneer to his underboss: "Chloe is fun to play with, but for my Donna, I have other options."
In that instant, I ripped out my cheap, pathetic heart. I became exactly what he wanted: a perfect mistress who only cared about his money.
But Vincenzo didn't seem to like that.
His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto mine. "Besides this Manhattan penthouse, is there really nothing else you want from me?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a fake gasp of surprise. "You mean I can pick out a Ferrari, too?"