Primrose Thatcher has spent her entire life in a cage. Always looking through golden bars until she can finally escape.
College is bliss, her only form of freedom, filled with dangerous games and thrilling adventures she finds joy in. But when her mother becomes sick, she’s forced back in her gilded cage once more. Her mother’s death causes her to shift from one cage to another. His cage.
Vance De Luca. Ruthless mafia heir. The devil. And my new husband.
They say better the devil you know, but it turns out… she never truly knew hers. Until now.
Vance De Luca. Ruthless mafia heir. The devil. And my new husband.
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The driver is young, taking his job way too seriously as he explains there are complimentary snacks and water by our feet. He looks in the rearview mirror, eyes zeroing in on my wife as I narrow mine on him. “You are very pretty, miss.”
“Eyes on the road,” I snap, throwing my arm around my angel and pulling her closer. “Fucker,” I mumble under my breath. Leaning into her ear, I whisper, “Seems my mark on your neck isn’t going to cut it.”
She giggles, and I smile. She likes my caveman tendencies even if she pretends to be immune to them. “I think he’s just trying to get a nice tip,” she whispers back.
I shake my head, lips positioned at the side of her head. “Nah, he wanted to feel us out, see if you belong to me or if you’re free game.”
The car pulls up to a beach house restaurant. It looks like anything but a high-class restaurant, but I had to book this place when I made the reservations for our condo months ago. I open the door for Primrose, allowing her to walk a bit ahead of me before I shove my head back in the car. “Instead of a tip, I’m going to allow you to keep your eyes instead of taking them as collateral for looking at what’s mine.”
The driver’s eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I slam the door, walking up behind Primrose and grabbing her hand. She looks down at our joined hands, a tiny smile on her face as she looks up to me behind dark shades. “Did you tip him nicely?”
I smirk. “I sure did.”
For More Information on M.T. Morgan’s books and where to contact her, visit her website: https://www.authormtmorgan.com
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