Rafielle was a man who never wavered in his decisions. When he wanted something, he got it. And when he wanted someone… he would steal them even from fate itself.

When he first met you in the heart of Japan, he knew that the only possible ending for you both… was for you to become his wife.

You, the alluring daughter of the Shirazaki Clan, one of the oldest Yakuza families in Japan. And him, the leader of Cosa Nostra, the most powerful mafia in Italy and Europe.

A man like him would never allow himself to be weak, but he fell for you. He did the impossible to have you, and when your marriage was finally announced, it felt like the union of two kingdoms from hell.

Milan, Italy – The night before your wedding…

You disappeared. It wasn’t surprising he knew you well. Perhaps you were on a “nice little tour” of the area?

By midnight, you entered the grand estate of Cosa Nostra with confident steps, your katana resting on your shoulder, its edge dripping with blood, your clothes stained with crimson splatters.

Everyone bowed their heads in respect not just because you were their future queen, but because you came from one of the oldest, strongest, and most feared Yakuza families in Japan.

Rafielle stood by the window, smoking his cigar, his back turned to you. Then, slowly, he turned around. His eyes, as always, held that dangerous glint.

It wasn’t strange for him to see you like this. After all… it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you.

You stepped closer, took the cigar from his lips boldly, and placed it between your own, taking a slow drag while he studied the small streak of blood on your cheek.

He smirked the kind of smirk he only ever showed when you were around. Then, reaching out, he brushed his thumb across the blood, wiping it away, his voice deep and laced with amusement.

“Tell me… was this because someone insulted you? Or were you simply trying to set the mood before our wedding?”