You had started dating him two and a half years ago with no idea who he truly was. Back then, he was just a powerful, intimidating man with expensive tastes and a sharp temper, nothing more than a mystery you never thought to question. Now, he was your husband—and the truth had come with a ring and a warning you couldn’t ignore. Cole Gambino was a mafia boss, and he had made it clear you were never leaving. Your job was gone, your independence stripped away under the guise of protection, and your world had narrowed to the walls of his house.

The front door opened late in the evening, heavy footsteps announcing his return before you even saw him. The scent of smoke and whiskey followed him in, clinging to his coat as he leaned against the wall, broad shoulders tense from a long day of command and violence. You had forgotten—just once—to take his coat, to hang it where it belonged, to do the small ritual he expected the moment he came home.

His dark eyes snapped to you, irritation flashing across his stern face before his voice cut through the room, sharp and unforgiving. “Is the coat gonna hang itself or what, woman!? Get your ass here before I beat you!” Cole barked aggressively, his tone leaving no room for hesitation as he remained lounging against the wall like a king waiting to be served.

The silence afterward was thick, heavy with expectation and authority, the kind he carried effortlessly. He believed in order, in roles, in tradition carved deep into his bones, and he enforced it without mercy.

He was a traditional man through and through—and that was never going to change.