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ONE HUNDRED AND NINE.

Tilting my head, I meet his hot gaze and my mind goes blank, my core tightens.

I know I'm gazing up into the eyes of the most dangerous, most ruthless and vicious man; possibly one of the most formidable men in the world.

Yet, my body refuses to register that. Instead my of body trembling, my skin prickles with goosebumps.

“I understand how you feel, Farfalla. But that does not give you the right or the excuse to act like a spoiled brat. You must not use vulgar language when speaking to the detective in charge of your aunt's case; otherwise, the case will be closed. And you will never, and I mean never, put your hands on me in public again. Do I make myself clear?” His tone is terrifyingly low and gruff, sending a ripple of awareness through my feverish frame.

Abruptly, my body catches up with my mind and I stiffen at the sound of his voice.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper meekly, panting. “I don't know what came over me, but without you here, I'd be a wreck. So, please... Alessandro, don't
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