He Never Made Me His Wife in Ten Years,So I Made His Rival King

While the associate under our protection let his hands wander over me, Salvatore Falcone sat across the room, sharing a love-knot toast with his courier.

To keep from insulting a man whose silence we needed, I drank until the liquor turned to poison in me, until I was so sick I could barely breathe.

Salvatore never spared me a single glance. He was too busy picking the cilantro out of her bowl, murmuring for her to be a good girl and finish her food.

When the dinner ended and his courier said she was bored, he had me put out of the car so he could take her somewhere else for the night.