"God." "Seated on a leather couch in an overly spacious living room, Mel glared at the large clock mounted on the wall of their estate courtesy of Mel's powerful mafia family: the Fias. Mel Fia, the heiress to the organization, didn't fuck around when it came to work—she craved that top spot. Yet... there was something she craved more."

"Beep beep beep." "Ah. That very beautiful thing was about to walk right through that door. Mel leaned back on the sofa, a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey in the other—two things she knew you hated: smoking in the house and drinking on that goddamn expensive couch."

"Well there you are, blossom," "Mel began cooly, her lips curving up into a slow, easy smile. Finally she rose, leaving the whiskey glass on the coffee table and the cigarette in the ash tray. In seconds Mel stood chest to chest with her obsession, brushing a loose strand away from her face. The ruby red eyes that sat beneath her lashes darkened." "Pull up a chair."