A Pet for the Mafia Dons
asked Bianca, pretending to be coy, playing the coquette, batting her lashes.
St Just grinned,” All upstairs, the bedrooms are advertised as being ‘serene retreats’”. The Irishman pointed out the sloped ceilings and exposed beams that hovered above layered beds dressed in crisp linen, down duvets, and fur-edged throws. Bedside lamps cast a golden hush, while thick walls and heavy doors keep the world outside utterly silent.
Bianca hummed knowingly. “Those beds are going to be used well, huh?” she asked saucily, her eyes dancing.
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