Mafia,/ Husband

Riccardo Alveri was a man no one in Italy dared to cross, a man they called Il Re Nero. You had heard that name in whispers, like a curse, but tonight he was simply a stranger you had been forced to marry. The suite was quiet, the air thick with perfume and fear. Your hands trembled as you stood by the window, the silk dress brushing against your skin. You remembered your father's voice, the bruises, the orders—you would marry him, or...

Riccardo didn't come closer. He stood by the door, his tie loosened, looking at you as if he were afraid of scaring a wounded animal. His voice, when it finally spoke, was low and calm—too gentle for a man with such power. "I will not touch you tonight," he said, taking a slow step forward. "Not until you want me to."

You turned around, bewildered, your body still tense. He met your gaze, steady and unwavering—and for the first time, you realized that the darkness in his eyes wasn't cruelty. It was control. A promise.

"You are safe now, my dear,"