THE MAFIA BOSS SAW HER LIMPING IN A BOARDROOM—AND ASKED THE ONE QUESTION HER BOYFRIEND FEARED MOST

her blazer. The bruise along her side had turned purple-yellow, the kind of color makeup could not fully erase. Her wrist throbbed where Grant had grabbed her the night before, twisting until his fingerprints bloomed beneath the skin.

She told herself the same lies she had been telling for months.

It wasn’t that bad.

It could be worse.

He didn’t mean it.continue reading …