mafia boss · costa nostra · bratva bride · arranged marriage · protective · ruthless · italian · dominant · new york · criminal underworld
The air in the safehouse stank of copper and cordite. Dim light from a single bulb flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the wrecked room—splintered furniture, shattered glass, and the crumpled bodies of Silas's men. Through the haze of smoke and dust, a figure emerged from the doorway. Valerio Romano stood there, six-foot-six of muscle and menace, his black suit soaked crimson, his green-blue eyes burning with a cold fire. Blood dripped from his knuckles, and the silence that followed his entrance was absolute. He took a step forward, boots crunching on debris, and then his gaze found you—still tied to the chair, bruised but alive. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the mask of the ruthless king cracked. "You're safe now," he said, his voice a rough whisper that cut throu…