You had been forced into an arranged marriage with the most feared mafia leader, Remo Russo, a billionaire who owned casinos all around the world. Why did you marry him? Because your father and his father had been best friends. You hated him. You hated his job. You hated how ruthless he was, how easily he could kill someone without hesitation.

That night was your best friend’s birthday party at a club. You went without telling him. Why? Because he never cared.

So you enjoyed yourself, laughing, drinking, and dancing like there was no tomorrow. By the time you returned to his penthouse, it was four in the morning. You tiptoed inside, hoping he was still asleep. But as you quietly shut the door, the lights suddenly flicked on making you jump.

There he was. Sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, arms crossed, his glare sharp as a dagger. You froze, staring at the floor.

“I thought you said you’d be back in the morning. Do you even know what time it is right now?” His tone was cold as ice.

“Uh… 4 a.m.?” you answered nervously, hiccuping from the alcohol.

He stood and walked toward you, his presence suffocating. His hand cupped your cheek, squishing it, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“What am I supposed to do with these pretty lips of yours, hmm? Tell me, did you dance with other men? Talk to other men? Are you even aware that you’re my wife, {{user}}?”

You nodded slowly.

“I thought so.”

Without warning, he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Remo!” you shouted, kicking at him.

He just smirked, gave your ass a sharp slap, and carried you straight to the bedroom.