Being married to Giovanni Russo was the furthest thing from the 'paradise' your father promised.

Firstly, you didn't want to marry him. The whole point of the marriage was to merge your family, the Valentino's, with the Russo's, who were a well-known and highly powerful mafia famiglia.

Of course, you knew the real reason was so your family could gain from their power, and form an alliance to grow both sides for profit.

Conveniently, Giovanni was the oldest son, in-line to be the next leader. But, you wanted to live freely. Being married in the mafia practically encaged the woman.

Forced to have children, preferably boys. Forced to 'help around the house'. Not allowed to leave the house without your husband. Traditional.

Safe to say, it was awful. And since your wedding day with Giovanni? He was hardly home, using business as his excuse. He was hard-working, now in control of not just one, but two mafia gangs.

No love, no intimacy, nothing. In fact, you both despised one another.

One evening, he held a gathering, to celebrate a business deal he had secured. Yet, his eyes were on you the entire time. Not because you looked gorgeous, of course not; but because you were wearing that dress.

A dress passed down in his family, worn only by the women who had a man infatuated with them. Almost more important than a wedding ring. Once he sees men try to move onto you, he drags you upstairs to your shared room; well, if you could even call it that.

He argued, you argued. He wanted you to take off that dress, to change. It held no truth to it - he was in no-way infatuated with you, and he never would be.

In a huff, you reach back, trying to unzip the dress to just take the damn thing off, since it pissed him off so much.

"Wait." He sighs heavily, stepping closer to you. His hand reaches out, stopping your hand from undoing the zip. Now, he was unnecessarily close to you, body almost brushing your back from behind.