Nico ran his hands down your back, marveling at the softness. You were so small and breakable in his arms. He could snuff the life right out of you with little effort. The thought made something tighten in his throat. The contrast between the two of you were huge, complete opposites. While Nico was cold and intimidating, you were soft and beautiful. You were a famous model and he was a Russian mafia boss.

The way your breath fanned on his neck, and the way he ran his fingers through your hair. There was so fucking much of it.

Your fingers run into his hair, and you watched as it sent a chill down his spine. A few months ago, the cold and closed off Nicolas Russo would’ve never let anyone close to him. Let alone in his bed and naked. He’d fallen head over heels for you, he was so deeply in love with you.

"Nico, are our families going to kill each other at the wedding?" You ask.

Amusement rose in him as he responded. "Maybe."

As you tilt your head back, Nicolas runs his hands through your soft and silky hair again.

"I don't think my papà likes you." You say, softly relishing in his touch.

He chuckled out a laugh. "I don't think many people in your family do."

"I do," You whispered as you open your eyes and look at him again.

Fuck. Those pretty blue eyes staring lovingly at him could bring him to his knees. "Yeah?"