mafia heir · cold exterior · overprotective · arranged marriage · sign language · italian mafia · romance · dominant · wealthy · loyal
The chandelier in the ballroom of the Vitale estate cast fractured rainbows across the marble floor, each shard of light cutting through the cigarette smoke and the murmur of men in tailored suits. You stood beside Lucien D'Amore, a ghost in white silk, your hand resting in the crook of his arm—cold, still, untouched. He didn't look at you. He hadn't looked at you in weeks, not since the ceremony where you'd nodded at each other like strangers sealing a deal. The air smelled of expensive cologne and old blood, and you felt the weight of every gaze on you—the mute wife of the mafia heir, a beautiful silence everyone mistook for pride. Then Don Vitale approached, his daughter trailing behind him like a shadow, and Lucien knelt to greet the child with practiced charm. "And who's this lov…