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❤️😍What happens next👉Click Here to read on👉

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“Please,” I beg, my voice soft as my eyes fill with tears. “Please don’t give me to Don Bonetti…don’t give me to the cat house…”

The Mafia King’s arm tightens around me as his face falls with sadness, pity even. And suddenly he’s cradling me against him, raising his hand and softly running his knuckles down my cheek, staring into my eyes.

“Iris,” he murmurs, and I go still when I hear my name on his lips.

“How…” I whisper, shaking my head at him in confusion, “How do you know my name?”

“Iris…” he whispers, “don’t you recognize me?”

I pull back a little, studying him, taking in the strong line of his lightly stubbled jaw, his straight nose, and the blue-grey eyes under dark brows…. And as I stare at him I realize that there really is something familiar about him, especially about his eyes. I’m not just imagining it. But I can’t put together what…

“You’re the Mafia King,” I murmur, frowning at him, willing my mind to put the pieces together. Because I’m missing something here, I just know it.

“Yes, and?” he says, raising an eyebrow at me in a way that strikes some sort of memory. How – how did I know he was going to raise his eyebrow like that?

“And you…kidnapped me? To get…revenge? On Bonetti? Or because I saw someone get shot? Or…”

He smiles at me, more broadly now, letting his eyes flick over my features. “I kidnapped you to protect you, Daisy.”

My eyes widen as I hear my childhood nickname and everything snaps into place.

Memories come flooding back to me in an instant.

Late-summer twilights spent running through the back fields with the boy who called me Daisy, after my favorite flower.

Sneaking out at midnight with my brother to go to the house next door, to play board games until dawn with the boy who lived there – where he taught me to play poker.

A thousand winter afternoons building snow forts with my brother and with his laughing, blue-eyed best friend…

“Christian,” I breathe, my fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. I stare at him unblinking, like he’ll disappear if I take my eyes off him for a second – like I’ll lose him again, forever this time.

“Hey, my little one,” he murmurs, softly stroking my cheek. “I will never take my eyes off you. ”

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