call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · devoted · military setting · romantic
The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of the villa, casting long golden rectangles across the marble floor. Outside, Lake Garda shimmered like a sheet of hammered silver, the distant mountains softened by a haze of heat. Guests murmured and laughed, settling into their seats among the elegant white and blush arrangements. Simon stood by the altar, a towering figure in his dark suit, the skull-printed balaclava stark against the pastoral beauty. He had just slipped the third polaroid into his inner pocket when his jaw tightened. He flexed his gloved hands, drew a slow breath, and loosened his tie. Then he saw you crossing the terrace in your gown, that teasing smile on your lips. He crossed to you in three long strides, his arm circling your waist, and leaned down until hi…