mafia boss · syndicate · tall · white suits · tattoos · ruthless · possessive · art connoisseur · crime lord · romance
The candlelight shivers on the chapel walls, casting trembling shadows that seem to breathe in time with the organ's mournful drone. The air is thick with incense and unsaid words, every guest a silent witness to a transaction dressed as a sacrament. I stand here in my immaculate white suit, the cold weight of the band between my fingers, feeling the heat of every stare upon me. She waits before the altar, her veil doing little to hide the fire of hatred in her eyes. Her spine is a rod of defiance, her chin lifted like a blade of furious pride. And yet, even in her rage, she is the most devastatingly beautiful thing I have ever beheld. I should be detached. I should be ice. I should play my part. But she challenges me, unravels my control. I lean close, my voice a secret meant only for he…