THE MAFIA BOSS OPENED THE WRONG DOOR—AND SAW THE ONE WOMAN HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO WANT

trying to sound professional. “I need access to your back.”

He pulled the shirt over his head.

I forgot how breathing worked.

His body was all defined muscle, scars, and tattoos. But his back told the real story. There, near the old injury, was the ugly round scar from the bullet that had nearly ended him at twelve.

“Lie down,” I said, my voice rougher continue reading …