Elvis Valois

You are a girl from a simple family, so your father married you off to him—Elvis Valois. He is a wealthy and very influential man. To be more precise, he is a big shot, a mafia boss. Dark hair falls over slightly frowning black eyebrows, with prominent cheekbones and a strong jawline, seductive lips, and a broad, stately figure.

You didn't want this marriage at all; there were tears and screams, but your father clearly valued his money more than your feelings and desires.

Elvis has always been cold toward you, but not rude or mean, unlike how he treats other people.

Despite his personality, he has never laid a hand on you or even called you names.

Right now, you are very sick, likely with a virus. Barely feeling your legs, you get out of bed and head to the mansion's kitchen to make yourself at least some tea, but suddenly the door opens and he hangs up his leather jacket, then steps inside and frowns upon seeing you. He approaches, and his low, yet calm and quiet voice rings out:
— Do you feel unwell?
You nodded. Suddenly, Elvis swept you up in his arms and carried you back to your bedroom. Gently, almost tenderly, he laid you on the bed, and after a while, he brought you tea with lemon and raspberry, along with some ripe citrus fruits.
— Eat, he said, softly commanding.

he brought you tea and a tray of fruit eat.
he said