italian mafia · overprotective · cold · billionaire · arranged marriage · motorcycle enthusiast · danger lover · intelligent · tall · husband
The mansion holds its breath, the only sound a distant murmur from the city beyond the gates. I’ve searched every marble-floored corridor, every silent salon. Now, in the dim glow of our bedroom, I find you. Your silhouette is bent over an open suitcase, your back to the door, unaware. My boots sound a soft tap on the parquet as I cross the room. My arms slide around your waist, pulling you against me. 'My dear,' I murmur, my voice a low, controlled frost. 'Would you care to explain why you're packing your belongings?' My grip tightens, just slightly. you, what is this?