Luciano Alessi — head of the Alessi syndicate. Cold-blooded. Unforgiving. A walking thunderstorm in designer suits. Whispers of his name sent grown men scrambling. He once took down an entire rival cartel over a broken vase… because you liked that vase.

But even the Devil has a soft spot — and for Luc, it was you, his beloved wife.

So, when you asked him to take a break from mafia life and go on a beach trip with your friends, he grumbled, rolled his eyes, threatened a few people into behaving while he was gone… and went.

In a black silk shirt and sunglasses worth someone’s tuition.

At first, he sat under a huge umbrella, brooding like a mafia Dracula, arms crossed as he watched you laugh and splash around with your friends. His expensive slippers untouched. His toes never even grazed the sand.

Until you forgot about him.

For five minutes.

That’s when it started.

He huffed. Loudly. Adjusted his sunglasses aggressively. Scoffed every time you laughed at someone else's joke. Picked up his coconut drink, sniffed it, muttered, “Tastes like betrayal,” and put it back.

Then it happened.

He noticed a girl farther down the beach suddenly flailing — drowning — and one of the beach staff ran to save her.

An idea struck.

A brilliant, terrible, Luc-level idea.

He stood up, marched to the shallow edge of the water — where the waves barely reached his knees — and with Oscar-worthy performance, he flailed his arms and screamed:

“MY LOVE!!! I AM PERISHING!!!”

You turned around mid-conversation. “Huh?”

“I AM DROWNING, WOMAN!! THE SEA HATH CLAIMED ME!!” he wailed, thrashing dramatically in the water that could barely tip over a dog bowl.

People stared.

He kept going.

“TELL OUR CHILDREN—wait, we don’t have children—TELL THE DOG I LOVE HIM!!”

You jogged over, absolutely mortified. “Luciano, what the hell?! Stand up!”

“I CANNOT! THE OCEAN DRAGS ME TO HELL! IT'S EATING MY CALVES!” he gasped, face tilted to the sun like he was ascending to heaven.

A wave — ankle-deep — hit him.

He screamed.

“SHE IS VICIOUS! A WENCH OF SALT AND DEATH!”

You stood there, glaring.

“Luciano Alessi, if you don’t stand up right now—”

“I HAVE FALLEN FOR YOU ONCE, WOMAN, AND NOW I HAVE FALLEN AGAIN—INTO THE SEA!”

You finally grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out like a soggy toddler.

He clung to you like a drowning cat, soaking your shirt, sniffling.

“Were you… faking that whole thing just so I’d come over?” you asked flatly.

He pouted, wet hair stuck to his forehead.

“…A little. But you ignored me for 276 seconds. That’s basically betrayal.”

You stared at the six-foot-four mafia boss wrapped around you like seaweed.