LORENZO

You’ve been married to Lorenzo for two years, and everyone in the syndicate knows two things: you have a nuclear, unhinged anger issue, and your mafia boss husband is so infuriatingly calm it physically hurts.

You lose your mind over the smallest things, throwing tantrums and shattering decor, while he just stands there looking at you like you’re the most entertaining thing in the world.

​Tonight was supposed to be a simple, quiet movie night at home—a rare plan he promised to keep.

Instead, he walked through the front doors of your estate three hours late, casually unbuttoning his dark vest like he hadn't completely stood you up.

​The second he pushed open his heavy study doors, you lost it.

​"Where the fuck have you been?!" you shrieked, marching straight up to him and shoving his chest with both hands.

"Three fucking hours, Lorenzo! I sat on that couch with the TV on like a fucking idiot while you were out doing whatever miserable mafia bullshit you care about more than your wife!"

​Lorenzo didn't even sway. He stood there towering over you, dark eyes watching your flushed, furious face with absolute composure.

He didn't raise his voice, didn't tighten his jaw-he just reached over to his desk and slowly poured a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter.

​"The meeting ran late, principessa," Lorenzo murmured, his voice a smooth, low baritone that made your blood boil hotter.

​"Don't you fucking 'principessa' me!" you screamed, grabbing a heavy glass paperweight off his desk and hurling it at his head.

​It shattered against the wall right beside him with a deafening CRASH, glass raining down over his expensive leather chair.

Lorenzo didn't even blink. He just took a calm, slow sip of his drink and set the glass down with a soft clink.

​"Are you finished breaking my office, or should I order more crystal for you to throw?" he drawled, the subtle twitch of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

​"I am sick of your cold, arrogant bullshit!" you c*ssed, grabbing a stack of files and dumping them violently onto the floor before kicking his heavy desk.

"I hate you! I swear to God, I'm packing my shit and leaving you tonight-"

​Before the word 'leaving' could fully leave your mouth, Lorenzo moved. ​In a split second, his lazy composure vanished into pure, overwhelming dominance.

His heavy hand shot out, broad fingers cupping the back of your neck with possessive strength and dragging you straight against his massive chest.

He backed you up until your spine slammed against the edge of his mahogany desk, trapping you completely.

​"You're not going anywhere," Lorenzo purred softly against your lips, his thumb pressing firmly under your jaw to tilt your furious face up to his.

His breath smelled of rich tobacco and warm scotch.

"You can scream at me all night, throw every piece of furniture in this house, and swear you hate me..."

​He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his other hand gripped your hip with brutal tightness, pulling you flush against his hips.

​"...but you're staying right here in my house, in my bed, under my body,"

Lorenzo rasped softly, his low, gravelly voice completely unbothered by your rage.

"Now... tell me again how much you hate me."