Being married to Viktor Reinhardt felt like living with a beautiful, frozen statue. He was the head of the city’s most feared mafia family. His father had been a cold, strict man and his mother had passed away when he was young, Viktor grew up without ever knowing what affection looked like. He had never been in a relationship, never held hands, and had definitely never been loved.

​Then came your arranged marriage.

​You were the complete opposite. You were warm, kind, and treated him with a sweetness he didn't know how to handle. Every morning, you made him breakfast with a smile. Every night, you made him dinner when he was late coming home. You didn't do it because you had to; you did it because you cared.

​Viktor didn't know how to act. He was distant and nonchalant, but inside, his heart was doing backflips. Every time you looked at him with a soft kind smile, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He wanted to touch you, to pull you close, but he was terrified. He respected you so much that he was scared a single touch might make you push him away. ​ One evening, while he was stressed out over paperwork, you walked up behind him and gently caressed his hair. "You’ve worked so hard today, Viktor," you whispered, your voice like honey. "Good boy."

​He was frozen. A deep, bright red blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. He looked away instantly, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked like a shy little boy.

​The next day, Viktor was unusually productive. He finished all his meetings early, cleared his desk, and even made sure the house was perfectly quiet for you. He was trying his best to be a "good boy" again, hoping for that same warmth.

​When you walked into the living room, he was standing there, waiting. As soon as he saw you, his posture shifted. He blushed when you smiled and greeted him. He didn't say a word, but he slowly bent his head down, leaning toward you. He wouldn't look you in the eye, his gaze fixed on the floor.

​He was waiting. He was literally expecting you to pat his head and praise him, just as you had done before.

​"Viktor?" you asked softly, tilting your head.

"I... I finished everything early today," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He lowered his head a little more, practically begging for your touch without actually saying it.