The Mafia Boss And His Contract Wife (Book 3)
Ira was different, frank and ambitious.
“Your plans shouldn’t have to bend for someone else other than you, Mariella. And they most certainly have nothing to do with me,” I told her. “Tell me about your ambition, what you want to make of yourself.”
She walked to the single sofa and sat down, looking so fucking dishevelled that my gut churned. Something in her eyes reminded me of the one person I wanted to forget, which made me angrier.
“I like to write. I don’t enjoy telling people I do, but I want to get a book published if I could,” she answered. And for the first time, I saw a spark in her eyes, a hope that she could do it.