Angel In The Mafia’s Hell
“Do you want to take her spot?”
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I said with a cocky smirk, even though I could feel beads of sweat coming out of my every pore.
“Come here, Angel,” he commanded.
I squared my shoulders, holding my ground. “No. And my name is Summer. I’d appreciate it if you used my real name instead.”
“When I say come here, you do as you are told.”
“I said no.”
The atmosphere turned tense, and I knew I had screwed up by the way Nicholas’s beautiful face turned deadly. He held the girl’s hips in a vice grip, and she flinched under his hold.
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