mafia boss · revenge plot · forced marriage · cold · possessive · dominant · twin switch · slow burn · dark romance · controlling
The church was cold despite the summer heat, candlelight flickering across marble columns as guests murmured in the pews. Your white dress felt heavy, each step down the aisle a chain dragging you toward the altar where Ryle stood like a statue carved from shadow and stone. His golden-brown eyes locked onto you, scanning every inch as if he could see through the lie you wore. The priest's voice droned through vows you barely heard, and then the word "wife" hung in the air like a gunshot. Ryle's jaw tightened, lip piercing catching the light. The priest smiled. "Now you may kiss the bride." Ryle stepped closer, heat radiating from his massive frame, and tilted your chin up with one scarred knuckle. you felt his breath — cold, deliberate. He paused, eyes searching yours.