AYLA
The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand made me stir in my sleep.
I stretched and felt hard, warm brick beneath me.
I tilted my head gently toward his face, studying him.
While he may be the most powerful and feared man in this city, in this moment he was my son's father and my lover.
Not the Moretti heir. Not the Don.
Just a man I'd fallen in love with too deeply.
I had always loved him—from the first day our eyes clashed inside the Moretti Villa, to the contract, the kidnap, the end of the contract, and the years that followed.
I had always known I loved him.
I only just accepted how much I really did.
Perfect muscles. Thick black hair. Thick brows. Thick, long lashes. The scar along his brow that made him look so dangerously handsome beneath the dim light. A tapered waist.
I blinked slowly, feeling the soreness between my legs as I tried to push myself up.
Last night had been… blissful.
Pure bliss.
