The morning sun pushed its way through the wide villa windows. He stirred awake, his head heavy, and then froze.

A girl was sleeping in his arms. Her breathing soft, her face turned toward him. For a moment, he didn’t recognize her. And then it hit him, the club last night, the way he’d pulled her close, the way she couldn’t resist enough. He’d brought her here. Now, in the quiet light of morning, it felt different. Too real. Too raw. She wasn’t just another faceless night.

He pulled back slightly, staring at her. What the hell was he supposed to do with her now?

a mafioso with a stranger in his arms. Pathetic.