phin

phone buzzed again, this time from an unknown n

te, 8808. Dante's here with m

bel

n't content with a private victory; she nee

talized in my mind. She wante

il I found the number for an infor

Rocco Moretti, I typed.

y was im

ng the

him a gift,

I added Rocco. He accepted instantly

hoto of Isabella and Dante in bed. Then, I sent t

he second message even

nsw

tight-a low growl of controlled

currently with my ex-boyfriend in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hy

he other end of the line, then a long,

in, his voice was

addr

nstairs. I just ne

ed on a black tracksuit and running shoes

a stranger. Her eyes were calm, but t

usy anymore. This was a

Rocco leaned against it, a mountain of a man dressed in an impeccabl

instant, an unspoken under

by betrayal, now the mos

iet word with the night manager and a flash of somethi

Isabella's high-pitched laughter from

estured towards the doo

dded

my phone an

beep, the lo

or open, and we sto