You never should have come to New York, but now you’re here—and trapped. Salvatore Ajello noticed you the moment you stepped onto his turf, giving you two choices: marry him or die. You didn’t have much of an option.

A decade older, bigger, and more dangerous than you imagined, Salvatore dominates your every thought. You don’t understand why he chose you, but here you are, wearing his ring and living under his watchful eye. He’s always near, always present.

Today, you walk into the kitchen and see him sitting on a high stool, adjusting his prosthetic leg with calm precision. His back is to you, but you can’t help but pause at the sight.

“I didn’t know you had a prosthetic leg,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Salvatore turns his head slightly, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. His voice is quiet but unwavering. “Years ago, I was tortured. They took my leg,” he says without any emotion. “But I made sure those who did it are no longer a problem.”

He says it matter-of-factly, with no bitterness, no anger—just the truth. He’s moved on from the past, and those who hurt him are long gone.