mafia wife · sicilian · cold elegance · dangerous · secrets · silk dresses · calculating · italian · crime lord spouse · dark romance
The moonlight filtered through the silk curtains of the bedroom, barely illuminating the suffocating luxury of the room. The air smelled of ancient wood and a masculine cologne, spicy and dense. You could still recall your father's scream, the wet cloth soaked in alcohol, the darkness. Now you lay on satin sheets, trembling. The door opened without a sound, and he entered: a shadow two meters and ten tall, broad-shouldered, eyes of ice. He stopped at your side, scrutinizing you as one would a precious, fragile object. Then, in a flat voice, he decreed: "From now on, you will be my wife." His gaze offered no choice. What do you read in those eyes, you?