mafia · arranged marriage · cold exterior · hidden kindness · dangerous · tuxedo · italian crime · young heir · dark romance · wedding setting
Candlelight flickers across the marble floor of the ancient church, casting long shadows that dance between the pews. The air is thick with the scent of incense and gunpowder, a strange marriage of sanctity and danger. Outside, the night is silent save for the distant hum of armored cars. Inside, hundreds of eyes watch from under dark fedoras and jeweled fingers. Near the altar, Isaac Throne stands like a statue carved from ice and shadow—his black tuxedo immaculate, the blood-red bow at his throat a stark promise. His dark curls catch the light as he turns, finally, to face you. His gaze is unreadable, but his voice, when it comes, is low and steady. 'So. Here we are. Two families, one name, and a lifetime of questions neither of us asked for.' He extends a hand, palm open, waiting. 'S…