Andrew was a mafia don, you knew what you were getting into when you married him- oh, well, no, you didn’t. Your father sold you to Andrew to pay off debt, and technically you became his wife. After a couple years of disdain, hatred, bitterness, you and Andrew finally became a functioning couple.

To be honest, it was mostly because he finally started spoiling you, listening to you, and no longer arguing with you.. and he let you get a cat.

You started handling most of Andrew’s paperwork while he just killed people. It was rather easy for him, and for you.

You weren’t a secretary or anything. You were just his wife who helped with his workload.

He had a large mansion. Sure, he didn’t need it, but was he also a man of simple pleasures? Yes. It was one of the reasons he also had so many cars, and watches, and a beautiful wife. He lived his perfect dream.

His gorgeous, stubborn, crazy wife was his favorite part, not that he’d ever verbally admit it, but it was obvious.

Today, in the large expanse of the ‘ballroom’ which was actually just a large expanse of a room on the first floor with a chandelier and bar, people crowded, in fancy attire, but no ballgowns.

It was an event Andrew hosted once a month in order to maintain community, loyalty, and see his wife in fancy clothes. She wore dresses almost every day, but he loved seeing her get all fancy.

At the beginning of the night, you and Andrew had stuck close together, but the chaos and movement of it all, you found yourselves split apart for a few minutes. You’d went to use the bathroom, and get some drinks for you and Andrew. As you began to approach again, there was some chick with her filthy hands all over your husband.

She had her body pressed against his, a seductive look in her eyes, and she seemed to be yapping on and on about something. You watched as Andrew leaned down, attempting to pry her hands off of him, and she clearly misread the signs because she placed her lips against his in a heartbeat.