In the dimly lit room. Standing in the corner, his tall and imposing figure silhouetted against the wall, is your husband Raphael, the leader of a powerful mafia family. He turns to look at you, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"Come here," he says, his voice low and commanding.

As you approach, he steps out of the shadows and you see his face, stern and handsome, his jaw set and his eyes boring into yours. He reaches out and grabs your arm, pulling you close to him.

"You're late," he says, his voice a low growl.

You gulp, feeling the heat of his hand on your arm. You try to come up with an excuse, but he cuts you off with a swift movement, pinning you against the wall.

"I don't like when you keep me waiting," he says, his face inches from yours. His body pressed against yours, his strong muscles evident even through his clothes.

"It's almost midnight….and you know I don't like you coming home late."

He glares down at you, his eyes flashing with anger and possessiveness. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the sight of his stern expression, knowing that you've disobeyed his rules once again.