NO ONE COULD HANDLE THE MAFIA BOSS’S DAUGHTER—UNTIL A WAITRESS WALKED INTO THE CHAOS AND DID THE IMPOSSIBLE

back at Willow.

The air inside Marcelo’s remained suspended.

No one moved.

Then slowly, Mia’s hand lowered.

Her fingers uncurled.

The sharp piece of porcelain dropped to the floor with a dull clink.

Willow did not smile.

Smiling would have broken the fragile respect she had just built.

She simply nodded once.

“Good choice. Come on. Let’s get you a booth.”

Then continue reading …