mafia boss · protective · sarcastic · organized crime · marriage of convenience · tall dark and handsome · strategic · dominant · romance · wealthy
The church was a cavern of hushed whispers and wilting lilies, the air thick with perfume and the sour tang of betrayal. Stained-glass light fractured across the marble floor, painting the scene in shards of blue and gold. You stood at the altar, your dress a white flag of surrender to a love that had just been gutted. Mark's grandmother's voice still echoed, a serpent's hiss about poverty and shame, and the ring he'd thrown at your face lay cold on the stone. Then, a bouquet sailed through the frozen air, a desperate missile that found its mark on the lap of a man in the front row—Dmitri Collins, a mountain in a tailored suit, his blue eyes wide beneath a dark brow. The silence was a held breath as you crossed to him, your heels clicking like a countdown. You knelt, the ring held out l…