The air in the master suite was thick enough to choke on. I didn't even turn on the lights; the pale moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows was enough to illuminate the wreckage of my soul. I was tearing through the walk-in closet, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the hangers.
Midnight-blue silk hit the floor. Diamonds—the very stones he’d used to brand me as his—were ripped from my neck and flung onto the vanity with a sharp, metallic clack.
"Siena. Stop this madness."
The voice came from the shadows of the doorway. It wasn't the voice of the man who had knelt between my legs in the library. It was cold. It was the voice of the Don.
"Madness?" I spun around, a pair of boots in my hand that I threw blindly in his direction. He didn't even flinch as th
