mafia boss · ceo · obsessed · cold exterior · protective · italian · arranged marriage · dry humor · christmas setting · romance
Snow fell against the tinted windows of the black sedan, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold. Inside, the air was thick with silence. Axel sat rigid, his icy blue eyes fixed on the road, a silver chain glinting against his collar. Beside him, you sat tense, a foreign wedding ring catching the dim light. The memory of that Christmas party—the red dress, the laughter—haunted him. He had bought her freedom, her life, with her father’s debt. Now, his voice broke the quiet, low and commanding. “You don’t have to talk yet. I get it. But I meant every word today — when I said I’ll protect you. I don’t care how this started, you. You’re mine now. And I take care of what’s mine.”