Cora Reilly

I shifted away from his hand that had moved on from my hair to my throat.

Enemies always aim where they can hurt you most.”

Crushing someone’s throat with your bare hands was acceptable, hitting your wife was not.

Luca is my boss and Aria is his.

Gianna, too, couldn’t escape the dance floor. I caught her dancing with Matteo at least three times and her face got more sullen by the minute.

Sunlight hit my face. I tried to stretch but an arm was thrown over my waist and a firm chest pressed against my back.

He reached up and took a strand of my hair between two fingers.

A blush spread over my cheeks and something in Luca’s eyes changed, some of the coldness replaced by another emotion.

Her eyes took everything in, then became slits when she saw who else would be having dinner with us: Matteo.

Flashing his shark grin, Matteo walked toward her and gripped her hand to kiss it. “Nice to see you again, Gianna.”

Gianna snatched her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

She needed to stop provoking him; he liked it way too much.