~Antonio
The night air hit me like a slap the second I stepped out of that godforsaken restaurant. It was cold, but my body was burning—with frustration, with rage, with a deep, gut-wrenching helplessness.
I exhaled sharply, reaching up to touch my face. Swollen. Sore. Pulsating with pain.
The man's men had hit me. All because I had no idea about the mess Giovianni had dragged me into.
I dragged a hand down my face, my fingers brushing against my split lip. Damn it.
The metallic taste of blood lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder of the situation I was trapped in. I reached for the top button of my shirt, fumbling as I tried to fix it, but the fabric was too wrinkled, too rumpled, too ruined.
This wasn’t me.
What the hell has my life turned into?
I used to run a c
