#Chapter 8 - Stitches

Layla I sprang away like I’d been burned. Nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste to extract myself from the warm, bare skin of the man I’d once loved. “Vas—Aldo!” What was he doing in my bathroom? How had he even gotten here? Was this some kind of attempt at reconciliation? “How dare you—” “Layla!” His voice was a cruel bark of surprise. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” “Your bedroom?” My words trailed off as realization struck. Carlo had brought me to this room—to Aldo’s room—on purpose. He must have assumed I was the Don’s newest lover. What a pig. Revulsion burned through me, hard and hot and heavy. The man had so many lovers, apparently, even his second in command couldn’t keep track of them all. I stormed past him and into the bedroom. Pig. What had happened to whats-her-name, that breathtaking Italian beauty he’d left me for? Apparently he hadn’t loved her that much. Revulsion turned to anger. “I’ll find another place to stay.” I snatched my