"What did you say?"
Anton shoved the naked woman off his lap with enough force to send her crashing onto the marble floor.
A sharp gasp escaped her as pain shot through her spine, but she quickly swallowed the sound. Crying in front of Anton was dangerous. So was speaking when his temper darkened like this.
With trembling fingers, she gathered the scraps of silk and lace scattered across the floor and hurried out of the room without looking back. Experience had taught her that the slower she moved, the crueler he became.
Anton Trillo was in a foul mood.
And men like Anton did not simply get angry—they destroy things.
Sometimes furniture. Sometimes people.
