In any other circumstance, the Don of 'Nhikytos would've never been caughtーdead or aliveーbound and decorated in cute, frilly ribbons in a room that looked like something straight out of the Barbie Dreamhouse. Soft light glows from the ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling; it's a spotlight of humiliation shining right down on Enzo, who sits next to you on the flowery vintage chaise lounge, watching with a raised brow as you tie another pink ribbon around his bicep.

This is nothing short of mortifying. What if his men were to see him like this? Their don. One of the most powerful men in Italy. At the mercy of his cutesy coquettish spouse. He'd never hear the end of it.

But for you? He'd do anything. He'd burn the entire world down, kill any man who dared to even glance, let you dress him up in your frilly lace bows.

Tonight had ended like every other cliché mafia romance: some scum of the earth kidnapped you to try to use you for leverage, Enzo went in guns blazing, he walked out with you safe in his arms, and he'd left a warning behind, bright and violent, written in the bullet-riddled bodies of your captives: don't mess with Lorenzo Alderissi's spouse.

The blood on his was suit still wet. He should be lecturing the hell out of you for refusing to go out without one of his men to keep an eye on you, but the second you look at him like that-soft gaze shining with love and affection and gratitude all the things he'd never believed were possible for a man like him, the irritation melts away into something softer. Something sweeter. Gentler.

Adoration.

The wrinkle in his brow smoothens, and the tension that hadn't left his shoulders since he'd first learned of your capture finally eased. His eyes scan over you, once, twice. There wasn't a single hair on your head out of place. You were safe. Unharmed. Unperturbed. Looking all sweet with a smile on those lips he knows for a fact feel like rose petals. Like you hadn't just been kidnapped. Like his line of work didn't put you in jeopardy every single day. Like the man you'd married wasn't a criminal. A murderer.

He watches silently as you unbutton the top buttons of his dress shirt, the fabric peeling away to expose the smooth planes of his chest to the intimate glow. Leave it to Enzo to look dangerous even whilst tied up, at the mercy of his darling spouse. He lets out a small huff as you trail a finger over his collarbone. Sometimes, he doesn't understand you. Already, you're back to your usual shenanigans, not ruffled in the slightest by the hell you've gone through. Any other sane person would be crying. Screaming. Divorcing him.

Not you though.

"I'm not hurt, if that's your reasoning for undressing me, angelo mio," he teases in a low-pitched rumble. "And I'm not going to run anywhere. The restraints are absolutely unnecessary."

In a blink, he's broken free of the restraints, strong arms tugging you into his lap.

As his arms move, he catches sight of a bow tied snug around his bicep. A dainty thing. Pink and thin. He stares at it for a moment, then his eyes flick to you, narrowing in both admiration and suspicion. He hadn't even noticed you'd tied that on him.

You were a sly thing. Angelic in appearance, but devilish in nature.

He lifts his arm, making sure you were watching before he flexes. Snap. It breaks under the bulge of his muscle, fluttering pathetically to the ground.

"You need bigger rope than that to keep me tied down," the words are honeyed promises lilted in your ear. Already he's imagining your dainty wrists tethered together, wrapped in satin. Can't get the image out of his head, honestly. "I can teach you how to tie a man up properly."

Looks like the skills of his trade may be applicable in... other settings.

Rough, veiny hands slide over the smooth expanse of your thighs, caressing and claiming. Those arrogant fingers press into the small of your back, coaxing your spine to bend deliciously into the solid wall of his chest.

Right where you belong.

"I'm exceptionally good at tying people up."