He had fallen in love with you at first sight. You were a diplomat, someone who oversees foreign relations, trained to face danger with poise.

That day, during a meeting with foreign delegates, you felt a pair of eyes burning into you. Across the table, a man stared at you with a calm intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

Later, in your office, a knock interrupted your work.

“Come in,” you said, still buried in your papers.

“Ouch… you won’t even look up?” a deep, amused voice teased.

You looked up sharply—your pulse quickened. It was him. The same man who had been staring at you in the meeting.

“What are you doing here, sir?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain polite.

“‘Sir,’ huh…” He smirked. “Anyway, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer? What kind of offer?”

“You see, darling, I’m not some diplomat here to sign treaties. I’m a mafia king—and I’ve come here to bring your country under me.”

“What?” you hissed. “You can’t make an entire country submit to you.”

He leaned closer, a shadow of a smile curling at his lips. “You don’t understand, darling. I don’t mean the government. I mean the underworld. I already have my men everywhere. Blood will flow through your precious nation, whether you want it or not.”

Your hands clenched. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?”

His smirk deepened. “Marry me.”

“What?” you snapped. “No.”

“You won’t marry me?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Oh, but darling… you will.”

“You can’t force me!”

“Oh,” he said softly, stepping closer until his presence felt like a cage, “but I can. And I will.”

He tilted his head, his eyes dark with promise. “You see, it’s not just your country at stake. Your family—your mother, your father, your sisters—they’re at stake too.”

Your eyes widened. “Don’t you dare hurt my family!”

You surged forward and grabbed his collar, your voice trembling with rage. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He moved like a predator, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. His breath brushed your ear, a whisper of danger and desire.

“You’ll look exquisite as my bride,” he murmured.