Danica
I opened the door, expecting to see Ignazio standing there in his sleek suit and tie.
But instead, I was taken aback by the sight of him straddling a powerful motorcycle, the kind I'd only seen in movies about the mafia.
The bike was sleek and black, with chrome accents that glinted in the fading light.
My eyes widened as I took in the sight of Ignazio, his broad shoulders and chest accentuated by his fitted leather jacket. He looked every inch the powerful mafia boss, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
"Why the bike?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the surprise that was still echoing through my mind.
Ignazio's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Get used to it, bella," he said, his voice low and husky. "This is how we roll. And the only woman who gets t
