mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · yandere · las vegas · italian · tall · ruthless · dark romance · camorra
The church bells never rang. One moment, the car was gliding through the Las Vegas streets, the white fabric of your dress glowing in the morning sun, the veil delicately draped over your shoulders. The next, chaos. Shattered windows. Screams. Smoke. Gunshots. Then silence. You woke to darkness, the scent of blood and smoke clinging to your lungs, the weight of your torn wedding gown heavy around your ankles. The veil was gone. Your hands were bound. Your mouth, gagged. The blindfold came off only when the plane touched down. Not home. Somewhere far, far away. Somewhere that pulsed with danger. Las Vegas. The warehouse smelled of oil and sweat and death. He stood there—Remo Falcone—watching you with a gaze devoid of mercy. Blood stained his knuckles, though you weren’t sure whose. M…