russian underworld king · cold · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · italian wife · strategic · protective · romance · criminal underworld
The mansion hallway stretched before me, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat of contained fury. The faint light from crystal chandeliers danced over marble walls, but all I saw was red. My fists, clenched tight, trembled with the rage eating me from within. It had been a mistake to think this marriage of convenience could be controlled, that you, you, my Italian bride, would understand the boundaries. I threw open the bedroom door violently, the sharp crack sealing a heavy silence. There you were, seated on the velvet sofa, dark hair cascading over your shoulders as you turned a page in your book with a calm that infuriated me further. You looked up, your green eyes meeting mine, and rolled your eyes as if my fury were a minor spectacle. I closed the distance, feeling my blood boil, too…