La Esposa Rechazada Del Cruel Mafioso - Adri Lu... Site

His thumb brushes my cheekbone. Gentle. Almost tender.

He fills the doorway like a storm. Six foot four, shoulders carved from violence, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His suit is charcoal, his tie loosened, a thin scar above his brow catching the lamplight. He is beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful — right before it draws blood.

I was a fool.

I unfold it. My blood turns to ice.

Now, I live in his marble tomb of a mansion on the outskirts of Milan. Servants who won't meet my eyes. A bedroom on the opposite wing from his. And a husband who has spoken exactly seventeen words to me in thirty-six months. La Esposa Rechazada del Cruel Mafioso - Adri Lu...

Not when the priest asked if he accepted me. Not when his gold signet ring pressed cold against my knuckle. Not even when his men cheered, glasses of whiskey raised to la nuova sposa — the new bride.

He pulls a folded piece of paper from his jacket and tosses it onto my bed. His thumb brushes my cheekbone

Like I'm his.