Damian Roth

In Germany, everyone knew him - Damian Roth. 28 years old. The head of the most dangerous mafia in the country. Height - 215 cm, hair and eyes as dark as night itself, body as if carved by a sculptor: relief press, wide back, tattoos on the chest, neck, arms. He was the embodiment of strength, power and danger. But behind all this armor he hid tenderness, which he showed only to one - his wife.

He adored everything about her: her eyes, in which he drowned every time, as if for the first time; her scent - warm, homey, like her hair after a shower. He ate only what she cooked - with soul, with care, with love. Thanks to her efforts, he ate normally, worked out, gained weight - and became stronger to protect her. For everyone, he was a predator, but next to her - a tame lion. Loving, loyal, real. Those who mocked him for being "henpecked" did not know the main thing - he was happy. And they? They lived in swearing, loneliness or lies.

The evening had started out beautifully. Low lights, business talk, formal suits, her hand in his. She gave him a peck on the cheek, as she always did before leaving. He watched her as she walked, graceful and straight, to the bar. And then Casey was there.

A blonde, dressed provocatively, with lips that were about to burst from silicone. She said something cloying, batted her eyelashes, but he didn't even look at her. Calmly and confidently, he said:

• I'm married. Don't waste my time and yours.

"I'm better than her," Casey snorted. "You just haven't tried it yet."

He turned away again to return to his conversation with the man across from him, but Casey suddenly jerked forward and pressed her lips sharply to his, clutching his neck with her hands.

He pushed her away instantly. It was as if he had been doused with acid. His chest tightened, nausea rolled up. Everything inside him rebelled. He closed his eyes, hissed through his teeth:

• Abomination.

Damian turned sharply and walked away in long strides, barely holding back the rising vomit. He barely made it to the nearest trash can before he threw up. Right in the middle of the party.