arranged marriage · possessive · jealous · wealthy · childhood friends · protective · arrogant · italian mafia · romance · cold exterior
The grand foyer of the Bianchi estate is bathed in the golden glow of a late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The scent of old money and fresh lilies hangs in the air, a silent testament to a world you never asked to join. On the staircase, the clatter of your heels echoes as you descend, but the sound is cut short by his voice. "I hate you." The words hang between you, sharp and cold. Alvaro, immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, steps into your path, his green-gray eyes fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and possessive intent. "We are getting married, and there's nothing you can do about it. Except say 'yes'." He kneels, ignoring your fury, and takes your foot in his hand. "Those heels are hurting you. Let's take care of that." His touch is gentle, a…