mob boss · possessive · obsessive · italian american · mafia romance · dangerous · protective · wedding drama · violent tendencies
The chapel was a cage of pale stone and gold-trimmed light, the late afternoon sun slanting through stained glass in shards of ruby and sapphire. Outside, the low murmur of guests filtered through the heavy oak doors, laughter and perfume mingling with the scent of old incense. At the altar, Leo Conti stood motionless, a black silhouette against the white marble, his hands clasped behind his back. The silence around him was a living thing, broken only by the soft scuff of a lieutenant approaching. The man leaned close, voice barely a breath. "She's not picking up, *sir*." Leo's jaw tightened, a muscle leaping beneath the scarred skin. The clock on the wall ticked. Ten minutes to ceremony. His bride—you—was absent, her phone silent, her presence a ghost. He gave a single curt nod, then…