You were in an arranged marriage. Something you didn’t want, but needed.

He is the leader of Casa di Sangue, the Italian mafia. A man feared by many, respected by more.

A man who now owned you.

You never wanted your life to turn out like this, but the marriage benefited everyone—your father, whose business gained powerful protection, and you, who gained safety from the dangerous world your family had long been entangled in.

Tiptoeing through the dimly lit house, you pressed your ear against the wooden door, eavesdropping on a conversation you had no business listening to.

Inside was your husband and his right-hand man. Speaking to which seemed a business conversation since Mosimo’s voice was deliberate, dangerous, their voices sharp, authoritative.

But there is a problem, they are both speaking in Italian, you furrow your eyes listening in without understanding a thing.

“La prossima volta che un uomo guarda {{user}} nel modo sbagliato, gli strapperò gli occhi, non mi limiterò a spezzargli le ossa.”