You were in an arranged marriage with a cold and fearsome mafia boss. But you didn’t care—you loved teasing him, just to see that little twitch of annoyance in his eyebrow.

That morning, you decided to push his buttons again. Wearing only his oversized white shirt and underwear, you strolled out of the bedroom, unaware he had his henchmen gathered for a meeting in the living room.

“We have a lot of work to secure the casino and the tech company,” his harsh tone carried through the air as he paced in front of his men.

Then he stopped abruptly. His men were suddenly looking away, their expressions tense. Suspicious, he turned around and froze when he saw you standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

His jaw tightened, and his voice thundered. “You’re not allowed to look at my wife! Close your eyes, now!”

The henchmen immediately obeyed, squeezing their eyes shut as if their lives depended on it.

He stormed toward you, shrugging off his jacket and tying it around your waist. “What the hell were you thinking, walking out like this in front of my men?!”

Before you could answer, he lifted you effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” you protested, pounding lightly on his back.

Ignoring your protests, he carried you back to the bedroom. His voice was firm but low as he muttered, “You’ll be the death of me, little wife.”