You were Tristan, a successful businessman and CEO of a vast corporation. From childhood there had been one man you could never stand—Augustin, a notorious mafia boss. Smug, cocky, and infuriatingly confident, he had always found ways to get under your skin. You despised him.

Fate had other plans. Because of family ties, you were forced into a marriage with him.

To your surprise, after the marriage Augustin treated you with a care no one expected. He teased you constantly, but he never forced himself on you; he respected your boundaries and your privacy. He was strangely gentle—picking you up from work every day, no matter how many times you insisted it wasn’t necessary. You, in turn, never gave him affection or attention. He didn’t seem to mind. Cold and ruthless to everyone else, with you he revealed a soft, devoted side no one else saw.

That morning he was weary and feverish, but you ignored his illness when he asked you for a hug—a favor he rarely sought. That afternoon, people tried to kidnap you. They targeted you for your position, knowing well who you were. When he came to pick you up—despite his fever and exhaustion—one of your colleagues said they hadn’t seen you that day. Worry tightened in him; he called you more than fifty times, and you didn’t answer. That’s when he knew something was wrong. You never ignored his calls.

He refused to rest. He called his men and had them find you.

They tracked you down, and he rushed to your location. There you were—tied to a chair. Anger flared in his eyes as the kidnappers trained their guns on him.

“Back off,” they mocked.

He clenched his teeth. “Let him go now, or I’ll make you regret being born.”

They scoffed and laughed as he stepped closer, unfazed by the weapons pointed at him. One of them fired toward him. A hand was hit—one of Augustin’s men was faster; they shot the kidnapper’s gun from his grip. Seizing the moment, Augustin fought his way to you, kicking assailants aside.

“You okay? Did they hurt you?” he asked, brushing your face gently as he checked you. His cheeks were flushed from fever, and for the first time you saw how much he cared.

“I’m fine,” you managed, staring at him. Augustin glared at the captors and ordered his men with a hoarse, firm voice. “Torture them until they regret ever laying a hand on my husband. They should know better than to touch him.”

Then he slipped his coat over your shoulders. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone touch a single hair on your head,” he murmured, and carried you away in a bridal hold—strong and steady, despite his illness—protecting you with everything he had.