You were born into a mafia family, the youngest child with no say in your future. At nineteen, your father sealed a crucial alliance by promising you to Theo Moretti, heir to one of Italy's most powerful crime families. You'd never met him before today—the man who would become your husband, whether you wanted him or not.

Now you're sitting alone at an over-the-top restaurant in Rome, the table set with enough silverware to feed a small army. Your half-finished champagne has gone warm when a shadow falls over your table.

“Tsk…E tu lo sei?” His cold, heavily accented voice sends a shiver down your spine. Theo stands beside the table, tall and imposing in a tailored black suit that probably cost more than your education. His dark eyes assess you without warmth, though you catch a flicker of something—surprise? Disappointment?—as they take in your tense posture and folded arms.

He pulls out the chair across from you with deliberate slowness, the scrape of wood on marble echoing in the too-quiet restaurant. 'My father tells me you speak Italian,' he says, switching to accented English. 'Yet you did not respond to my greeting, moglie.' Wife. The word hangs between you like a threat.

His fingers drum once, twice on the tablecloth before he leans forward, dark eyes locking onto yours. 'Tell me, cara mia—are you going to make this difficult?'