Chapters (102)
- Cover
- About This Book
- Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance
- About This Book
- Prologue
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- Lucia’s Epilogue
- Salvatore’s Epilogue
- Dominic: a Dark Mafia Romance
- About This Book
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- Sergio: a Dark Mafia Romance
- About This Book
- Letter From Natasha
- Prologue
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Natalie
- Sergio
- Sergio
- Natalie
- Natalie
- Natalie
- 2nd Letter from Natasha
- What To Read Next
- Also by Natasha Knight
- About the Author
- Thank You!
“Yeah, well, what did you expect? I still can’t believe you’re with him.”
“I know.” I know Drew doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m going to get hurt and I can see how he’d think that, especially given what just happened. I lied to him for the first time since I’ve known him, too. I told him the flowers were from Sergio. But I force that worrying thought from my mind. “How’s Pepper?” He took Pepper for the weekend.
“She’s fine, you don’t need to worry about her.”
“Thanks again for taking her on such short notice.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, I heard something about Professor Dayton taking a few weeks off.”
Shit. “Is he?” I play dumb.
“Heard your boyfriend paid him a visit.”
“Drew—”
“Just be careful, okay? These are dangerous people.”
“He told me he loved me.”
My comment is greeted by silence on the other end of the phone. “Did you tell him?” he finally asks.
“Not yet. But…”
“Nat, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. He won’t hurt me.”
“It’s not him hurting you that worries me. It’s you knowing him putting you in danger.”
I know this already. “I have to go.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually called to tell you to have fun. I don’t want to be a shitty friend.”
“You’re not. You never could be.”
“So go have fun.”
I chuckle.
“And call me ASAP with any gossip!” he adds on, making me smile.
“You’re worse than a woman.”
“I know. Love you.”
“Love you.”
After slipping my phone back into my purse, I open the closet door, and walk in. There, hanging between several suits, is the most beautiful red dress I have ever seen. Beneath it on the floor is a pair of matching red pumps.
I touch the dress, feel the silky material, rise up on tip-toe to lift the hanger off the rack. The tags are still on the label, and I don’t recognize the name of the boutique but I do know the Italian designer. I don’t want to think about how much it cost.
I carry it back into the bedroom and walk to the ornate, full length mirror standing in one corner. I hold the dress up to myself. The long, layered skirts fall to mid-calf, and thick straps leave a wholly exposed back. The color is perfect, a deep, rich crimson. I love it.