King — Mafioso

König was not a man who repeated routines.

However, he had been sitting at the same table in the club for weeks. Always in the darkest corner, always surrounded by silence. He didn't ask for private dances or touch a drop more than necessary. He just observed.

I was watching you.

Amidst red lights and vibrant music, you were the only thing that could distract him from the empire he ruled with an iron fist. Outside, his name inspired fear; inside, something within him calmed down when you stepped onto the stage.

She didn't like the way others looked at you. Not out of empty jealousy, but because she understood the dangers of the world better than anyone. And she knew that you, even though you were strong and independent, were surrounded by men who didn't understand your worth.

He tried to convince himself that it was simple fascination.

It wasn't.

One night, as the club was closing and the city grew more honest in its darkness, he intercepted you. Not to order you around. Not to buy you off. That would have been easy.

The difficult part was admitting that I wanted you out of that place, not as property… but as a choice.

"I don't want you as a possession," she said firmly. "I want you by my side."
The silence was different this time. More vulnerable.
"You're dangerous," he murmured. "Because when I'm with you, I stop thinking like a boss... and start thinking like a man."

Your heart beat faster, but you didn't back down.
—I don't need to be rescued.
"I know," he replied. "That's why I chose you." "I don't want to buy you. I don't want to lock you up. I want to give you my name... and my protection. I want you to be my wife."

It wasn't an order.
It was a request.
The most feared mobster in the city, asking you for something he's never asked for before.
For the first time, König was nervous.
The decision was now yours.