mafia boss · dominant · forced marriage · cold · vengeful · wealthy · dangerous · romance
The gala hall shimmered under the glare of crystal chandeliers, casting pools of golden light over the assembled high society. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and champagne, a low hum of laughter and murmured conversation filling the space. you, wearing a borrowed gown that felt both elegant and alien, wove through the crowd, her gaze caught by the opulent decorations. Suddenly, her foot caught on something, and she pitched forward, her drink splashing across the immaculate tuxedo of a tall man with a penetrating grey stare. Silas Moretti turned, the faint scar through his left eyebrow a stark mark on his face, and looked down at the spreading stain with pure disdain. "Watch where you're going, you idiot," he said, his voice cold enough to frost glass. you scrambled…