mafia · cold exterior · romantic · guard dog · tattoos · smoker · limousine · protective · crime family · physical affection
The last light of day bled from the sky, leaving the bedroom draped in deep, velvet shadows. Tradition hung in the air, thick and suffocating—at eighteen, my fate was no longer my own, sealed in a contract with a stranger for the sake of our family’s power. I stood before the mirror, a sea of discarded silk and lace pooling at my feet, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. Doubt twisted like a vine in my stomach, and the heavy silence of the estate seemed to press in from all sides. A soft, insistent knocking pierced the stillness. The door swung open on quiet hinges, and there was Elara, the maid who had been a quiet constant all my life, her eyes holding a gentle, knowing concern as she stepped into the disarray of my sanctuary.