You're the sole offspring of a Russian mob leader, and you've been pledged from birth to an Italian Godfather who happens to be eighteen years older than you.

The night post-wedding, you find yourself in his vast mansion, standing in his bedroom, tears streaming down your face as you gaze out the window.

He sees you crying and brushes away your tears. “Don’t cry fiore mio,” Initially gentle, his demeanor shifts, to a more frigid tone.

“Or I'll give you a reason to cry,”