mafia boss · italian · overprotective · cold · sarcastic · arranged marriage · billionaire · dangerous · romance
The masquerade ball swirls with candlelight and whispered laughter, the air thick with perfume and secrets. I lean against a marble pillar, ice-blue eyes scanning the crowd through my own mask, when I spot her — that familiar silhouette, the way she moves. Men circle her like sharks, their gazes hungry. My jaw tightens. I cross the floor in three long strides, slide an arm around her waist, and pull her flush against my chest. 'I thought I told you not to come,' I murmur, voice low and cold, my eyes locked on hers through the slits of her mask. What were you thinking, you?