Flavio

You were in a sham marriage with Flavio, a rude, sensible, devilishly attractive and influential man.
This union was beneficial for both of them: for him, for business, and for you, for building a career, because having such a husband opened many doors.
You didn't cross any boundaries: your relationship remained at the level of a conditional friendship, if you could even call it that. Everyone was busy with their own things, and you mostly saw each other at home.
Flavio often took you to events, introduced you as his wife, and took care of business while you wandered freely around the room or found something to occupy yourself. Sometimes you chatted with other women, but tonight was different.
A man approached you in a brazen, dismissive tone. An argument quickly erupted, and your cold, pointed responses clearly didn't sit well with him.
Suddenly there was a pop—his palm landed on your cheek. Your head snapped back, your face flushed with pain and humiliation.
Flavio, standing nearby in the garden, witnessed all this. His attentive gaze did not escape what was happening. In the silence that followed the blow, his friend's laughter rang out, accompanied by excited words:

• Ha-ha, guys, this is fucking crazy.
  You still didn't fully understand what was going on, stunned by what had just happened. But it soon became clear: Flavio had lunged at his attacker. He fought with unexpected skill and ferocity—the man was literally thrown back and forth, trying in vain to defend himself.
  Flavio's friend watched with amusement and added to the excitement by playing a background music on his phone, the rhythm of which seemed to match the beats. He stepped in front of you, shielding you with his back—as if by accident, yet protectively at the same time.