Hunter’s POV
Just as our lips were about to meet, I took a small step back and took the glass from her hand.
“I’ll drink it myself, sweetheart.” I answered.
I didn’t drink the wine. Instead, I sat beside Eleanor in the dark, my gaze fixed on her as she looked out from the balcony and drank.
She seemed defeated, not that I’d blame her after dealing with everyone else’s idiocy, and I realized that her mood was directly affecting me as if I was a sponge.
She turned back around and slumped down against the balcony and I noticed that she clearly had shed more than a few tears.
“Do you know what almost every other mafia princess wants?” She suddenly said. “They want to shop for clothes and jewelry. They want to be someone’s future mother or wife. They want someone to save them from their
