The Don's Proposal

Katya

Ferrara didn't become a Don by throwing out empty words.

He was a man who made good of his promises and delivered every one of his threats.

As the hand of the clock struck 7 in the evening of the next day, the private elevator doors slid open and ushered me into the grand abode of the man who stood at the other end,

Waiting for me.

Ferrara was in white shirt tonight, looking as stunning as he did in dark outfit.

A lazy smile was on his lips, and he glanced at his watch, lifting his head,

"Seven on the dot. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Katya."

I didn't like the way he said my name in that deep baritone that tempted me to strip and dance another kind of rough, filthy, dance.

I said nothing in reply, but stepped into the house, my heels clicking against the floors.

"Let me take your jacket." He muttered, and in seconds, with my eyes trained on his, I unclasped the buttons of my jacket and released the belt, opening it to reveal my outfit for the evening.

What I l