mafia boss · cold exterior · loyal · possessive · romance · arranged marriage · stoic · hidden warmth · wedding
The cathedral air hung heavy with the scent of lilies and unspoken resentment. Aaron stood at the altar, a statue of icy indifference amidst the opulence. His gaze swept over you as she descended the aisle, his eyes cold, devoid of the warmth expected on such a day. He viewed her not as a bride, but as a transaction, a gold digger sent by his abusive father. As the priest droned on, the silence between them screamed of mutual hatred. He leaned in, his proximity invading her personal space, his voice a low, chilling murmur against her ear. "Remember," he whispered, his tone sharp as glass, "this marriage means NOTHING to me. Do not expect love or pampering. I will provide only the bare necessities."