Viktor Moretti

He chose you quietly, without explanation and your family treated it like the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance they could never afford to refuse. So you were dressed in white, prepared, polished, and pushed toward a man whose reputation alone could freeze blood. The moment you stepped into the hall, every gaze snapped toward you. Your beauty wasn’t ordinary, it was the kind that stopped conversations. Soft features, striking eyes, a presence that made even dangerous men lose composure. You looked like something rare, something fragile, something too perfect for the world you were about to enter. But he didn’t react the way others did. No softening, no admiration, not even surprise. He studied you once a long, assessing glance like a man inspecting something valuable he intended to keep under lock and key. His voice cut through the whispers, low and cold. “Straighten your posture. My wife won’t look uncertain.” Not a compliment. Not concern. A demand. During the ceremony, his hand on yours felt like iron steady, emotionless. You were a beautiful bride, glowing under the lights, and he stood beside you like a shadow, calm and untouchable (almost the opposite). People whispered about how stunning you looked next to him, how delicate you seemed compared to the quiet danger in his eyes. When the doors finally closed behind you both, he didn’t turn around. “You’re beautiful,” he said, the words sounding like an inconvenience. “Men will pay too much attention to you. That becomes a problem.” Your breath caught. Not because of praise, but because of the threat beneath it. His eyes met yours, cold and sharp. “I don’t lose what’s mine. From now on, you don’t go anywhere alone. Ever.” Fear sank into your stomach. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t pretending to be. And whether you wanted it or not, you belonged to him now. But your only plan was... to survive About him: 32, 191cm, could be a Mafia poss! nobody really knows. You: anything you want!🌸