By Christine Feehan
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There was too close of a Dark Symphony 31 connection. She would know. She would feel him. Your imagination is running away with you, Antonietta. Why is it you always call me Antonietta? Everyone else calls me Toni. Byron concentrated on the sound of relief in her voice. Antonietta, his lifeline to sanity and control, when his emotions were as powerful as the raging sea. Your family calls you Toni. Everyone else calls you Signorina Scarletti, a title of great respect. That does not tell me why you won’t call me Toni.
She did her best to look irritated before touching her grandfather’s hand as she swept from the room. Dark Symphony 21 “You never take your eyes off of her,” Don Giovanni said approvingly. “That is good. I wanted a man like you for her. ” The red-rimmed eyes regarded him steadily. ” “Not me, Don Giovanni. ” Byron helped the old man to stand. ” “I’m too weak to stand by myself,” Don Giovanni admitted, ashamed. “I will not drop you, old friend,” Byron encouraged gently. He allowed the man to take staggering steps to cross the room to his private bath rather than arbitrarily lifting him.
The words were said against the corner of her mouth. She felt his warmth, the anticipation, the clenching of her muscles and the thousand butterﬂy wings suddenly brushing at her stomach. Her breath caught in her lungs, was trapped there. Was she really going to lie there like a Sabine captive and wait for his mouth? Wait for him to take possession of her heart and soul? Instinctively she brought both hands up to push at the wall of his chest. Her palms touched him. Felt hard muscle. Felt heat.