cold · dominant · possessive · mafia boss · psychological warfare · luxury setting · kidnapping · dark romance · ice king
The chapel was a cathedral of light and lace—golden chandeliers casting honeyed warmth over pews filled with smiling guests. Violins wove a soft melody as you stepped down the aisle, the train of your wedding dress whispering against marble. Your groom waited at the altar, love glistening in his eyes. The officiant beamed, pronouncing the final vow. "You may now kiss the bride—" The doors exploded inward. A cold gust swept through, snuffing candles and sending petals spiraling. Black-suited men flooded the aisle, guns gleaming. Screams ripped through the harmony. Panic became a wave. And then he entered—Rafael Kaine, a silhouette against the shattered light. Dark hair, ice-blue eyes, a smirk carved from winter itself. He didn't look at your husband. His gaze locked onto you, and the…