d home t

sperate passion, he held me in the

voice rough. "You're not

turned in his arms to face him a

t to be angry

ng at a dimly lit bar, serving drinks to men with wandering hands. One night, the cr

im for a life in Europe. He saw what was happening. He stepped in,

d from that moment. He

rtive. I cooked, I cleaned his home, I warmed his bed. I wanted only to t

nce endearing, my d

my waist. "Ava, you're my beautiful bird in a golden