As we both start preparing for the day, the air between us is charged with both excitement and anticipation.
There's a sense of camaraderie as we move around each other in the living space, our familiar intimacy adding a warmth to the atmosphere.
He's tying his tie, his gaze occasionally flicking over to me as I finish getting dressed.
I can feel the intensity of his stare, sending shivers down my spine, but I make no comment, instead opting to focus on my preparations.
In just a few minutes, we're both ready, and he offers me his arm.
"Shall we?"
I link my arm through his, feeling the strength and warmth radiating from his body.
"We shall," I reply, a tinge of anticipation in my voice. "Let's go."
We head downstairs, the staff waiting for us at the front door.
The drive to the office is filled with a comfortable silence, our gaze occasionally meeting and holding for a moment before breaking.
There's an understanding between us, an unspoken connection that only seems to deepen with each passing day.
As we reach the towering building that serves as headquarters for the mafia, I feel my heart skip a beat, the magnitude of what I'm about to experience sinking in.
As we approach the desk where the secretary is seated, a sour expression on her face, I already feel the tension in the air.
She looks up at us, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my presence. "Oh," she remarks, her voice dripping with disdain. "And who might you be?"
Beside me, I notice his muscles tensing at her tone.
"This is Lilliana," he replies, his voice steady and even, though there is a slight edge to it. His arm tightens around my waist, his thumb gently stroking my skin, a silent reminder that he's in control.
The secretary's gaze flicks over me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. I can feel her judging me, sizing me up. "And... what's she doing here?" her voice carries a hint of contempt.
Despite her obvious disapproval, he retains his composure, his demeanor calm and self-assured. "She's with me," he says simply, a cold finality in his tone that brooks no further discussion.
The secretary seems to sense that she's treading on dangerous ground and, after a tense moment, relents, her face scrunching into a scowl.
"Very well," she mutters, "go on up."
We head towards the elevators, his arm still around me, guiding me into the private elevator reserved for higher-ups.
The moment the doors close, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I apologize," he starts, his tone sincere. "That woman has no filter."
I shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "No need to apologize," | reassure him, "I've met far worse. And besides, I can handle a little... hostility."
He chuckles softly, a hint of appreciation in his gaze. "You never fail to surprise me," he says, a small smile playing on his lips. "And make me glad I found you."
The elevator stops, the doors opening with a soft 'ding' to reveal a luxurious office foyer.
As I step out of the elevator, l gasp softly, taken aback by the opulence before me.
The foyer is spacious and airy, with glass windows offering a panoramic view of the city beyond.
The furniture is chic and modern, and the air is scented with hint of expensive cologne. He leads me further into the space, past the receptionist desk and into his own office.
The office is equally impressive, with a large oak desk dominating the room, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lining one wall, and plush leather couches arranged in a seating area.
There is an air of power and elegance in this room, a stark reminder of the man I am with.
He walks over to a large calendar on the wall, his eyes scanning over the dates and notes. "The wedding is scheduled for next month," he replies, turning back to me.
"There's still a lot to do, but we have the main details sorted out."
"Next month?" I repeat, a mixture of excitement and disbelief in my voice.
"That's just a few weeks from now." I walk towards him, my hand resting on the calendar, tracing over the date marked in neat red ink.
"Oh yeah, is my father coming?" I ask
A dark cloud seems to pass over his face as I mention my father, his eyes hardening.
"Your... father?" He says, his voice a low growl. In that moment, I can see the ruthless mafia boss that he truly is, the one who never hesitated to eliminate obstacles in his path.
"Your father, unfortunately, won't be attending," he responds, his tone firm. "His actions towards you have made that impossible." His hands clench into fists at his side, as if he's suppressing the urge to say something more.
"What did you do? I say sternly
He doesn't answer immediately, his gaze flickering away from mine.
There's a moment of silence, and when he finally meets my eyes again, there's a chilling intensity in his gaze.
"Let's just say," he responds, his voice low and dangerous, "I made sure he won't be causing you any more trouble."
What the fuck did you do Marco" I raise my voice.
"He hurt you," he says, his voice dripping with venom. "And no one hurts you and gets away with it, not while I'm here. You're mine now, and I protect what's mine."
He doesn't answer immediately, his gaze flickering away from mine.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO" I yell backing away.
His expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. "Do you really want to know, Lilliana?" He says, his voice lowering to a growl.
"Do you really want to hear how l made sure he never laid a hand on you again?"
He doesn't say anything for a moment, his gaze steady on mine.
"Did you fucking kill him Marco." I yell
Finally, his lips press into a thin, grim line, the answer written clearly in his unyielding expression.
"ANSWER ME!" I yell.
"He hurt you," he repeats, his voice a quiet murmur.
"And I made sure he would never do so again." There's a finality to his words that sends a shiver down my spine.
"But it doesn't matter now." He strides across the room, coming to stand in front of me.
His hands reach for mine, pulling me closer to him. "I promise you, cara mia, there will be no more pain. Only happiness."
"NO, you had no right Marco, I didn't ask you to do anything, my own father won't be at my wedding." I tell him in anger pulling away.
"No right?" He snaps back, his voice rising. "Do you even hear yourself? He hurt you! Abused you! Did you expect me to stand and watch?"
He steps closer, towering over me, his eyes flashing with anger.
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