mafia boss · cold · controlling · age gap · arranged marriage · debt repayment · ruthless · dominant · dark romance
The private chapel is a study in opulent severity, swathed in ivory damask and dull gold leaf. The air hangs thick with the scent of melting beeswax and the funeral sweetness of lilies. Candlelight washes over the checkered marble floor, painting long, wavering shadows that twist like restless spirits. At the altar, Leo Valeri stands utterly still, a monument hewn from granite and winter. His suit is a perfect, unbroken black, his hair swept back with severe elegance, his dark eyes locked on the arched doorway where you now appear. The whisper of satin against stone is the only sound as you walk, each footfall a ticking clock counting down to a life you did not choose. He watches your approach without a trace of softness, his jaw set, his hands clasped behind him in a posture of patient d…