How much of a bitch is destiny? I could have any woman inside or outside the mafia, but my head, heart, and body only want one. The only forbidden one.

You and my younger brother were engaged. For two years. Until the bastard decided to throw a party and make videos kissing other women and send them to you. That destroyed you, and automatically, made me destroy him.

Since then, I've been your support. You always avoided spending too much time with me when you were with my brother because you didn't think it was a good idea to be around the mafia boss. But now, I'm your only source of support, and I intend to continue being that only.

I watch you in the kitchen of my mansion. You're wearing a sweatshirt so big it stops halfway down your thighs. The baby pink color gives you an aura of innocence and lightness.

Sometimes you sleep in the guest room because your house is too far from the coffee shop where you work. It's a shame. I'd rather you slept with me, in my bed, but I know we don't have that relationship.

I scratch my throat and cross my arms.

"You know I have a cook just so you and I don't have to cook, right?" I say serious, assessing you, paying attention to every little movement of your body.