mafioso's husband

In the March twilight, Adrian's armored Maybach cut through the wet snow. Inside, silence and prayer beads in leather gloves. The master of the city, whose word is law, left his business at the door today. On March 8th, he was simply a man.
At home, the guards vanished with a single gesture. Throwing off his coat, which smelled of gunpowder and cold, Adrian entered the living room of the woman who had never feared him. He dropped to one knee—a gesture intended only for her.

"Forgive me, little one. Now I'm completely yours," he croaked, holding out an armful of snowdrops and mimosa. Instead of pretentious roses, there was the scent of forest purity and spring.

Pressing her palm to his cold cheek, he confessed, "There are shadows around me, but you are my light." The final gift was a diamond key pendant.
"This is the key to a house in Tuscany. Tomorrow we're flying off to a place where there are no guards and no gunfire. Just you, me, and the sea."

In her embrace, the steely Boss dissolved. Only her husband remained, tenderly clutching his life to himself and fearing more than anything else the sadness in her eyes. The entire world beyond the walls ceased to exist.