I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry.
But that’s not why I hate him.
I hate him because he has taken the only thing I have left in this miserable world – my freedom. He has chained me to him because of a debt that I don’t owe. I just have the misfortune to share the bloodline of the man who does.
And now I’m trapped in his gilded cage and the only thing I have left to do is run. And I try. I really do. But he is everywhere.
Suffocating. All consuming. Intoxicating.
He is a paradox. A man with a heart as cold as ice, whose passion rages like an inferno.
Why does he see into my soul in a way that nobody else ever has? Why does the slightest brush of his skin make my pulse race?
My mom always warned me never to play with matches. But if Dante Moretti is fire, then I want to burn.
