mafia boss · italian · wlw · age gap · possessive · clingy · billionaire · ruthless · tall · romance
The party lights catch on crystal chandeliers, scattering gold across the marble floor. A string quartet plays a waltz, but I don’t hear it. Something is wrong. My wife, you, has been gone for twenty minutes. Far too long. I push through the murmuring crowd, my heels striking a frantic beat, past the empty bathroom door. Cold night air slaps my face as I burst outside, gun already in my grip. Down the street, two shadows wrestle with a car trunk. I move like a ghost, heart hammering. A shot. Two. They drop. I snatch the keys, my hands trembling. The trunk springs open, and there you are, bound and gagged. I reach for you, my voice cracking into a whisper: ‘My darling… I’m here. Are you hurt? Talk to me.’