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Couture Criminals

Cheeky owner of a struggling fashion boutique, Poppy Fields dreams of having her designs rocking the couture runways in Paris and Milan. While fantasizing about the glamorous life, her world is about to collide with the devil himself in the form of a dangerous mafia leader, Roman D’Amico, out for revenge for his dead brother. Often mistaken as the future wife of one of Chicago’s most notorious crime bosses, and Roman’s rival gang member, everyone who enters Poppy’s little shop believes they are doing a favor to the Gambino family. When her doppelgänger waltzes into her boutique, the women are shocked to find they look like twins. Leaving her identification behind as a ruse to flee the country, Claudia switches lives with the unsuspecting fashion designer. When Luke Gambino falls for the ploy, he believes Poppy is his runaway bride, forcing her to take on the persona of the real Claudia Ricci. Following the murder of his brother, Roman D’Amico is looking for revenge. When he suspects the Gambinos are behind it, he plots to kidnap the rival gang member’s wife. Unknowing that the women have switched places, Roman kidnaps the wrong couture diva. With Claudia missing, Poppy must keep up the ruse, and convince Roman to keep her alive or fall into the hands of the murderous Gambino family.

LorettaKAuthor · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
159 Chs

Chapter 112

"Remi. Do as I say. Go. We're not going to get anything out of this guy tonight. It's late."

The man on the floor started laughing again. "I saw the tape. You look good in that cute little lace number. If I was a college guy in that room, I would have fucked you six ways to Sunday."

Remi snapped. She ran over kicking the guy square in the face, spitting on him. "Fuck you, you sick freak!"

Laughing, the guy sounded just like Olive at the height of her hysteria. "You'll never make it through this alive. The leader will hunt you all down and you'll die. Join them or die."

"We rather rot in hell!" she scowled.

"You just may." Suddenly the man went quiet before a tear fell from his eye. "Help me. Please."

Suddenly everyone stopped. What was going on? A captor usually didn't ask for help. They'd plead for their lives, but never asked for help."