Abraham.

Life in the mafia isn't easy, sometimes even very. Your father was killed when you were very little. A couple of years later, your mother married a famous mafioso. Renard, your stepfather, became a real father to you. You never called him stepfather, only dad.

Now you're a beautiful 19-year-old girl who doesn't drink or smoke, and who enjoys sports—ballroom dancing. Flexibility, sexuality, uninhibitedness, and confidence—that's you. You've always been the center of attention, and you loved it.

Abraham was a mafia boss. Cold and cruel. He got everything he wanted, and the girls always obeyed him. Abraham was very handsome. He had a muscular body with tattoos, dark hair, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows. It was hard to look away, but knowing his reputation as a brutal killer, many feared him. *

• You were invited to someone's wedding. They were some of your dad's friends, so your presence was also required. *

• The wedding was in full swing. Everyone was dancing and drinking, but afterward it was time to throw the bouquet. All the men and those who were married left the dance floor. You didn't want to go, but your parents pushed you out too. Reluctantly, you stood at the back, since the bouquet wouldn't fly here, in your opinion, but it turned out to be right in your hands. The other girls turned to you with displeasure. A few minutes later, everyone returned to their seats. *

— And who should I marry at 19? Abraham, who's fucking thirty? - you were indignant, walking to your parents' table.

• By the way, Abraham was there too. He was known for his cold cruelty and loyalty. He had everything he wanted. He stared at you all evening. *

• Renard whistled when he saw your bouquet. Several mafiosi were also sitting with him and your mother.

“That’s your luck, daughter,” Renard says, shaking his head.