He owns half the East Coast. I own nothing. Not even my future. My father just sold me to Dante Vitale. A gate made of iron that doesn't open for anyone. >He's cold. Controlled. >But then he noticed me cataloguing his entry hall. And he smiled. Not much. >The blood oath was supposed to be business. His hands are warm. His eyes aren't cold when they find mine. >I didn't expect to feel anything. Now I'm standing inside a mafia empire wondering if the most dangerous thing isn't the deal my father made. It's that I don't want out.
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