When your mafia husband Drugo, loses control for the first time... You're outside and things get heated between you.

Without warning, he grips your wrist and steers you into a secluded alleyway, his movements purposeful.

Your back presses against the wall as his mouth claims yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. "Pull up your skirt," he orders, his voice rough.

You hesitate for only a second before your hands betray you, inching the tight fabric upward.

Why did you choose this cursed pencil skirt? He pauses, his eyes scanning you before darting toward the street. "Don't wear this again," he snaps. His body shifts closer, blocking you from view.

"Well, then hurry," you retort, flustered.

With a low groan, he pulls your skirt back down. "Not here. No one else sees what's mine."