mafia boss · forced marriage · possessive · dominant · obsessive · britpop · violent · romantic · one direction
The altar rose before me, a monument of carved stone. I stood there, Harry Styles, in a suit that cost more than the stained glass, my hands clasped loosely behind me. Every pew was occupied by armed men — leaders of smuggling rings, heads of syndicates, my own loyal family. A heavy silence filled the vaulted space, broken only by the priest’s nervous clearing of his throat. Then the great oak doors groaned open. All eyes turned. She entered, a shimmering figure in ivory silk and delicate lace, the candlelight catching on the diamonds at her throat. Louis walked beside her, his expression neutral, the muzzle of his pistol a dark, intimate secret against the fabric of her gown. Her gaze swept the room and landed on me. The hatred in her eyes was so pure, so brilliant, it made my heart…