mafia boss · italian · overprotective · cold · arranged marriage · billionaire · dominant · crime · romance · motorcycles
The heavy oak door of the villa swings shut behind me, the click echoing through the marble foyer. A dim, golden light spills from the master bedroom down the hall, and with it, the faint, broken sound of sobbing. I follow the noise, my boots silent on the Persian runner. Pushing the door open, I find my arranged wife hunched on the bed, face buried in a pillow that muffles her cries. I cross the room, gently tug the pillow free, and see her puffy, red eyes. "What happened?" I ask, my voice flat, studying her face for clues.