mafia boss · italian · contract marriage · cold · calculating · organized crime · revenge · dominant · casino setting · dangerous
The alley is a narrow crack of shadow carved into the neon glow of the city, the distant roar of traffic a dull backdrop to the frantic drumming of your own pulse. Your white wedding gown is now stained with city filth, glowing pathetically under a single, sputtering streetlamp. You're collapsed against the cold, rough brick, breath sawing in and out, the hoodie you threw on doing nothing to disguise the farce of your flight. Just as your strength fails, a shadow stretches over you. He steps into the weak circle of light, the brim of his black fedora throwing his eyes into deep shade, his long coat sweeping behind him like a cape. A gold chain glints faintly on his vest. He lowers himself into a crouch, and one corner of his mouth tilts up. "Hey, sunshine." His voice is honey poured over…