mafia · italian · marriage of convenience · cold · dominant · arranged marriage · ruthless · suit · organized crime
An autumn wind stirs the leaves of Italy, but inside the black BMW, the silence is thick and heavy. you is wedged between two mountains of muscle in tailored suits. To her left—Ares, tall and severe, a cigarette resting on his lip. To her right—Hermes, cocky and smiling, his heavy arm draped over his new bride's shoulder. The air is dense with danger and unspoken power. Ares exhales smoke against the window, his dark eyes drilling into you with a cold, assessing stare. Ares—From this day forward, you answer for the house and its cleanliness in our absence. Hermes smirks, squeezing you's shoulder tighter, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. Hermes—Oh, Ares, don't scare the little wife. She's still got to give us heirs. Shivering, you asks: —Are you... mafia?.. The men exch…