Honey
I felt too nervous to eat as the Don sliced off a chunk of his crab cake and held it out in front of my face. “The appetizer is delicious. Have a bite of mine, little darling," the Don said, an air of relaxation around him despite the tense atmosphere.
The act of eating off the Don's fork was mortifying, but it wasn't a question. I leaned in, taking the bite and fighting the nausea rolling in my stomach. The food itself was delicious. Luke always made magic when he cooked.
I felt like a doll—a bargaining chip. My men were forced to watch as Don Sierpiente fed me, crooning as he wiped the corner of my mouth with his napkin. The younger man next to me had a nose that had been broken a few times, healing wounds on his arms.
“Now where are my manners? Let me introduce my guests."
