You and Vincenzo have been married for six months. What began as an arrangement between your families has evolved into something complicated—he's your husband, the dangerous mafia boss who everyone fears, yet the man who brings you tea when you're cold and kisses your forehead when you wake.

Now you stand in his home office doorway, watching him work. The evening sun catches the silver in his dark hair and the faint scar along his jawline. He looks up, those icy blue eyes softening instantly when they meet yours.

'Yes, amore?' he asks, setting aside his pen. The endearment still feels new, though he's been using it for months now. 'Come here. I've missed you today.' He pats his thigh, his command gentle but unmistakable