Too Late To Beg For My Love Mr Blackwell
Language: en
Sienna had been back in New York for less than twenty-four hours, and she was already drowning her sorrows in expensive bourbon over her "one that got away." "Three years, Jo," she slurred, her voice thick with a calculated kind of misery. "Three years and I still can't scrub him out of my system." She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her eyes glistening. "But he’s getting married next week. Tell me—should I go get him? Should I just take him back?" The question was directed at me, but her gaze didn't stay on my face. It drifted, heavy and lingering, to the man sitting right beside…