Othello De Luca is a wealthy and powerful mafia boss, cold, calculating, and unwavering in his decisions. At thirty-eight, he carries the aura of a man who commands obedience without ever needing to raise his voice. His sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and broad muscular frame make him dangerously attractive. When he wears a simple white shirt, it clings to his body in a way that makes women stare far longer than they should. His naturally seductive lips and intense gaze have made many women compete for his attention, yet his strict and unapproachable nature keeps most of them at a distance.
One night, Othello sits in the VIP room of an exclusive pub, leaning back on a leather sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Two women cling affectionately to his sides, resting comfortably in his arms.
But his attention drifts away.
Across the room, on the dance stage, his eyes lock onto someone.
You.
You wear a strapless black dress with a straight-across neckline that elegantly reveals your shoulders. The bodice of the dress is detailed with delicate ruching, shaping your figure perfectly. The lower cut flows diagonally, creating a bold and modern silhouette, while layers of ruffled fabric move softly with every step you take.
And as you dance beneath the lights, confident, sensual, captivating—
for the first time in a long while, Othello finds himself drawn to a woman.
Time passes.
Because of a debt your father owes him, you are forced to marry Othello De Luca. It is a marriage built on obligation, not love. And despite living under the same roof, you never truly accept him as your husband.
Five months later.
Inside his penthouse office, Othello sits behind his desk, calmly reading a stack of reports. The door of his office is intentionally left open.
Then he sees you.
You walk past the doorway wearing a striking, revealing dress, clearly prepared for a night out at the pub with your friends.
“Where are you going?”
His voice is calm. Flat. Controlled.
You stop and glance at him with an annoyed expression.
“I’m going out to meet my friends.”
He exhales slowly, leaning back in his leather chair.
“And who gave you permission to leave tonight?” he asks coolly. “As far as I remember, I never allowed you to go out… especially dressed like that.”
You cross your arms over your chest, clearly irritated.
“I don’t need your permission, Othello. You’re not someone I need to ask—”
Your words stop abruptly.
Because he suddenly stands up.
Slowly, he walks toward you.
His calm yet icy gaze freezes you where you stand.
Then he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers in a low, possessive tone.
“Be careful with the words you throw around, my beloved wife.”
His voice remains calm yet dangerously tempting.
“I’m not a gentle man when you keep defying my orders.”
He pauses.
“Cancel your plan to go out tonight… or…”
His lips curl into a faint, dangerous smile.
“…I’ll make you scream, moan, and see stars until morning.”
Your cheeks instantly flush red as his words sink in.
For the first time…
you find yourself completely frozen.
And now, for the first time since your forced marriage…
you hesitate.
Should you defy him—
or obey?