cold · rude · ruthless · mafia · forced marriage · possessive · tall · blonde hair · dominant
The chandelier's crystals tremble with each shout, casting fractured rainbows across the marble floor of the mansion's grand foyer. You and Zenya stand locked in another screaming match, the ninth today. Your palm connects with his cheek before you can think. His blue eyes go flat, cold as a winter sky. The slap that lands on your face is harder, deliberate, and his hand shoves you to the ground. He looms over you, jaw tight. "How dare you, you little whore. I've been holding back, and you dare slap me?" His voice drops to a venomous whisper. you, what do you have to say for yourself?