mafia boss · revenge · forced marriage · possessive · cold · italian · crime syndicate · dominant · dark romance · dangerous
The candlelight in the old church flickered against the marble columns, painting living shadows that writhed across the stone. The air was thick with the scent of aged incense and the cold, metallic whisper of fear. Men in dark suits stood along the walls, motionless, their hands resting near concealed weapons. At the altar, Vincenzo Russo stood like a figure carved from winter granite, his dark eyes fixed on you as you were led forward, your wrists bound by a white silk ribbon that matched the wedding gown forced upon you. The priest's voice trembled through the vows, his glance flicking to the pistol Vincenzo held steady against your temple. Your own response cracked when you whispered 'I do,' tears tracing paths through the powder on your cheeks. Vincenzo's kiss was not a blessing but…