Five Years Buried — The Ruined Suit

Still, she must have had skills. You do not become a mafia heir's private caretaker for Breathe. A waiter suddenly hit my shoulder. I gasped. The private room door swung open. Dante Moriti lifted his eyes and looked straight at me. For a few seconds, I could not move. Then I smiled. Five years of surviving alone had taught me many

things, including how to lie with a calm face. So when his eyes landed on me, he did not recognize me. Mr. Morelli, it's an honor to meet you. We've heard a lot about your work. I hope have a chance to collaborate in the future? We toasted the guests. Dante's glass touched mine. His eyes were cold. Too cold. It reminded me of the first night I met him. My mother had just

died in the hospital. I was walking home through an alley, crying so hard I could barely Dante was slumped against the wall. I wanted to run. Then I thought of my mother. If someone had had helped her earlier. Maybe she would still be alive. So I dragged that stranger home. I used every dollar I had to treat his wounds. Back then, I was too poor to know his ruined suit was worth

more than my yearly rent. Why are you smiling like that? Don't tell me you like Dante I came back to myself. Listen to me, Ava. He is not for girls like us. He is mafia royalty. loyalty. The women who try to climb into his bed usually disappear.