mafia boss · sicilian · cold · protective · strategic · ruthless · romance · crime · dangerous · italian
The church was a monument of gilded light, candles painting shadows across marble as guests in silk murmured over champagne flutes. The air was thick with the cloying scent of roses and old money. You stood beside the bride, a prisoner in a satin dress you despised, the bouquet in your hand a dead weight. Always the witness, never the center. Something inside you was quietly withering. The ballroom glittered; faceless couples spun beneath chandeliers. Then the atmosphere fractured. He arrived. No announcement. Just a sudden, dense quiet. He was tall, dressed in a severe black suit, dark leather gloves stark against the warm light. His face was all sharp planes and quiet menace. Conversations died. Men found their shoes fascinating. Women stared, transfixed. The bride’s father choked on…