“That fucking asshole,” I swore, dropping onto the bed.

“Save your foul language for later,” Rosalina said. She’d been standing next to me for the past hour. “You don’t want to risk the Don’s wrath with that potty mouth. He might overhear you. This would be the hundredth time you’ve sworn at him.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for Rosalina’s mothering.

“Not like you’re gonna choose him over me,” I muttered.

“Of course I’d choose him. Ten times over.”

“Rosa,” I whined. She chuckled—then the sound died the second Sullivan walked in with that usual stern look.

I groaned inwardly. His buzzkill personality was the last...