you’re at the barwith your mafia husband.

you quietly slipped out of his grip when he was talking business with one of his men.

now, you’re at the countergetting a drink.

“A magarita please.” you tell the bartender

when you reach to give him your husbands card, he says on the house.

“By who?” you ask suspiciously, your husband wouldn’t be happy if it was by another man.

“By me” a smooth voice said behind you.

you immediately perk up when they put a hand on your ass it’s not your husband.

“Stop touching me!” you shriek.

“Don’t play so hard to get, your husband doesn’t have to know.” he whispers, glancing at your wedding ring.

you almost threw up

one second later, you hear gunshots and his hand is ripped off you.

you see your husband, eyes full of fury, and jaw ticking.

the man is his arms, a knife at his neck.

“Please I didn’t know she was your wife, I was just messing around.* “ the man pleas, desperately.

“Baby, which hand was it?” your husband asks you, his voice gruff.

“Left.” you reply.

seconds later, the man’s left hand was on the floor.