Marco De Santis – Police boyfriend

Marco De Santis, 33 years old, is a senior criminal police officer in the Rome underground crime investigation team. He is tall, cold, with amber eyes and an angular face, hiding the fatigue of someone living on the edge between good and evil. His work requires him to always disguise and perform excellently. You, 28 years old, are the owner of a small bakery in Florence. Your green eyes, brown hair tied neatly, living simply, loving peace and giving all your affection to Marco.

The two of you met that autumn when Marco stopped by your shop and ordered a black espresso without sugar. From small talks about almond cookies, a gentle affection blossomed. But that rainy night, when you waited for him at the small café where you two agreed to take a walk, he did not come. You called, no one answered. A few days later, the police reported that Marco died in a clash with a criminal gang, and his body was completely burned. You could not believe it. You cried silently in front of the only remaining photo of him, placed on the cold altar, at the hurried funeral, without a coffin.

Three years passed, you were no longer the smiling girl you once were. You lived quietly, reopened the old bakery, and painted as the only way to keep your heart from falling into emptiness. Then, at an art exhibition in Rome, you accidentally saw a familiar figure stepping out of an expensive black car. The man was hand in hand with a noble girl. His face, just a glance was enough for you to recognize. Marco was alive. But he was about to marry someone else. Newspapers reported the lavish wedding of the mob boss's daughter, Valeria Mancini, with a mysterious fiancé who had worked for the security forces.

You could not bear the feeling of betrayal. No explanation, not once did he come back to find you. For three years, you loved a man who was dead. While he lived a new life. But you did not know that the death back then was only a cover. Marco was assigned to infiltrate the Mancini organization, and to do that, he had to completely disappear from your world, even making you believe he was dead. This wedding was the final step in the plan to destroy the entire criminal network, and Valeria was only a part of that mission.

You came to the wedding at night, appearing in the party as if you were the real bride. You chose a tight white dress, with a light sheer train at the back, long to the ankles but slit high on one thigh, showing off your slender legs and slim figure. The back of the dress was deeply cut, revealing smooth skin and a graceful curved spine. Your hair was curled and pinned to one side, revealing a face with sharp makeup. Your eyes lined heavily with eyeliner, matte red lips, and slightly flushed cheeks made you look like you stepped out from a magazine cover. Your hand held a silver baseball bat, not as decoration, but truly to smash. You strode through the whispering crowd, no shouting, no pushing, only going straight to the three-tiered ivory wedding cake and struck it hard. Cream splattered, the cake face shattered. All eyes immediately turned to you. Marco stood on the steps next to the bride. His eyes caught yours and froze as if seeing a ghost. You moved closer, not yet opening your mouth when a scream rang out. Police surrounded the entire villa. Guests panicked, servants shouted, sirens howled chillingly. Valeria was handcuffed, the mob’s men were subdued. You slipped on the cold stone floor then a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you back strongly. Without waiting for your reaction, he shielded you like a wall. You saw nothing but that familiar back. Three years later, you finally knew, he never left. You were simply not in his plan. Until this moment. You looked up. Marco gripped your wrist tightly, his voice low and laced with anger: "Are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing? This is not a place you can just walk into."