You have a mafia boyfriend. The kind of man whose name alone makes people tremble—cruel, merciless, dangerously ruthless. But with you? He’s different, soft and gentle.
Tonight, You’re in the kitchen, carefully prepping dinner. Suddenly, he steps in — cold as ice, his eyes sharp, voice cutting through the calm.
“Bitch, what’s for dinner?” he snaps, rough and sudden.
You freeze. His tone stings more than you expected. Trying to keep your voice steady, you manage, “G-grilled cheese…” You swallow hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes.
Then, he realizes, the harshness in him melts for a second. He rushes to you, concern flashing across his face.
“Oh shit,” he mutters under his breath.
His hands cup your cheeks, gentle but firm. “If you ever let me talk to you like that again,” he warns low, “you better smack the shit outta me. Got it?”
You nod, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah.”
"Yeah." He repeats it, softer this time, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pout just right. Then he presses a tender kiss to your lips
His eyes search yours, dark, desperate, pleading. “Tell me… what can I do to make it up to you?”