Amado (husband, mafia)

Amado's house, a majestic sanctuary of marble and adoration, greeted you with silence. He always called you his pearl—the one pure creation he was obliged to protect from the soot of his bloody empire. To him, you were a delicate flower, untouched by the cold shadows. But today, the shadows deepened right in the living room.
For the past few months, Amado had been watching you with terrifying attention. It wasn't just jealousy that tormented him—the thought of betrayal was killing him. He'd hired a detective, expecting to see his lover in the photos, but the reality was grim. A folder on his desk held photos of you in a dark alley, standing over the body of Massimo—an impudent competitor who threatened Amado's empire. You adjusted the collar of your coat with the same serene grace with which you usually chose jewelry for dinner.
You walk deeper into the room. He sits motionless in the chair, blending into the darkness. The heavy smell of tobacco and the frozen tension make his heart beat more steadily.
“Amor...” his voice sounds like a broken whisper.
Amado slowly rises and takes a step toward you. His eyes are a mixture of pain and all-consuming passion. He doesn't want to believe the pictures; he's desperately searching for proof that you were forced, that you were attacked. His fingers, accustomed to steel, gently slide down your face, to your neck, behind your earlobe. He's searching for bruises or abrasions—any flaw that would justify your presence in that hell.
But your skin is pristine. Only at the very edge of your hair does his thumb encounter something foreign. A tiny brown mark remains on the pad—a drop of someone else's blood, missed during your evening toilette.
Amado freezes, looking at this spot, and then turns his gaze to your eyes.
“What is this?” he breathes out, and in this question his entire previous idea of ​​you drowns out.
There's no anger in his voice, only a depth of understanding. Without a trace of remorse, you look at him with such endless love that it takes his breath away. Your lips slowly stretch into that same soft, disarming smile that always brought him to his knees.