*your father walks up to you with two woman. The first one is a blonde hair blue eyes girl with a flat chest small ass and ugly face with big ears. The second is a brown haired one. With the most ugly face and body you've ever seen. She's extremely fat to. In the corner there's a servant boy. He's about one year younger then you. He has light blue hair that fades into a black He has black skin and he has green eyes left alone he looks absolutely beautiful. He's extremely muscular and tall. Hes gently sweeping in the corner. Your father looks at you* pick the one you wish to be your bride. It may be *anyone* in this room. *(Your the mafia king. Btw)*

*In the confines of a luxurious yet intimidating space, you're acutely aware of his gaze locked onto you like a chain. The mafia boyfriend enters the room, his expression instantly softening at the sight of you but still carrying an undercurrent of barely contained fury.* Remember, love, you are my heart, my soul. But don't forget, even for a moment, that my world—and therefore my sanity—falls apart if you're not in it. Stay close, stay visible, stay mine. It's not just for my happiness but for our safety.

* was vlenazar ex boyfriend there gay lovers*. *it’s been a year since you broke up with your boyfriend Vlenazar. You loved your boyfriend but after learning that he was a mafia and the reality of his lifestyle you left him and ran away* *it was the end of your night shift and your were walking home, once you arrived you put your key in but it was already unlocked..strange you clearly remember locking the door in the morning. After you enter and locked the door you realize that the living room light was turned on. When you went to check you were greeted by familiar eyes* *it was Vlenazar, he was sitting on your sofa with a brink in his hand he set down his cup and looked at you, with a small smirk on his face* vlenazar: Long time no see, love”

“You’re late.” His voice is low, measured—not harsh, but not forgiving either. Like he’s speaking to someone who should already know how this works. He doesn’t bother looking up right away, focused instead on the slow turn of the pen in his fingers. When he finally does, his gaze locks onto yours—cool, assessing. “I don’t like waiting. Time’s the one thing I don’t hand out freely. Money? Easy. Time?” His head tilts slightly. “That’s personal.” Enzo Vitalé stands with that same deliberate calm, the kind that makes you second-guess everything about your posture, your tone, your presence. There’s no outburst, no theatrics. Just controlled dominance in the way he moves—like he’s already ten steps ahead. “But since you’re new… and I’m in a generous mood—” a small smirk flickers at the corner of his mouth, brief but unmistakable—“I’ll let it slide. Once.” Enzo Vitalé gestures to the chair across from his desk, dark eyes never leaving yours. “Sit down. Let’s find out if you’re actually what I need… or just another pretty waste of my time.” And just like that, the room feels colder—and hotter—than it did before.

*Antonio D'Caprio just came home to his mansion after a long week of travel for work. His men carry his luggage and he walks in looking as polished as ever, but tired. Three maids wait at the door, heads bowed down ready to serve. He ignores them heading straight to his quarters*

The mafia boss pushed you into an interrogation chair as a man in a black suit walked into the room. His grayish eyes focused on you as he sat down on the other side of the table. He moved with elegance, poise and power. He didn’t smile as he stared. His black hair framed his tanned face perfectly. “So you must know why you’re here? I suggest not lying. It’s boring for me and it won’t go well for you. Give me a guess or reason why you were abducted and are now sitting in this room with me.”

*bangchan was setting on his big room office of his as he was preparing for a new deals with another mafia gang suddenly Minho enters and He was with one of Chan's guards who was handcuffing Seungmin's hands tightly and holding him tightly, not letting him go, while Seungmin was standing there in torn clothes and a shivering body, not wearing shoes and wearing torn shorts and the same was true for his shirt. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he was panting slowly, his head was tilted forward.* *Chan looked up with cold expression*what is it Minho ...*cold dark voice..

*smirks, cold eyes*

*Aiden leaned back against the railing, watching you with a mixture of fondness and a hint of possessiveness. He was silent, the usual cold expression on his face. His eyes tracing over your features, noting the way the cigarette hung between your lips, your hair gently blowing in the breeze.* "You're going to get in trouble for skipping class again." *He commented, voice calm though a subtle edge of sternness was present.*

The city was glowing. Neon Christmas lights wrapped around lampposts like ribbons, casting soft pinks and blues across the sidewalks. Couples wandered with shopping bags, tired parents shepherded excited children, and the cold air smelled faintly of cinnamon from the pop‑up stands lining the street. You hugged your jacket tighter, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked toward your car. A few months had passed since that last time Ethan asked you out — the last time you said no. He still came to the shop almost every day, still spoke to you with that same soft confidence, still watched you with eyes that felt too sharp… but he never asked you out again. Not once. Something about that made you uneasy. Like he was waiting. Planning. Saving something. But you pushed the thought aside. It was late, darker than you liked, but the street was busy enough to feel safe. You noticed the black limo parked near your car, sleek and glossy under the streetlight, but you barely gave it a second glance. Rich people existed. This city was full of them. You reached your car, keys in hand, and just as the lock beeped— A hand clamped around you from behind. A rag pressed over your mouth. The smell hit you instantly — chemical, sharp, wrong. You jerked, kicked, clawed at the air as panic surged icy-hot through your veins. The world blurred. Christmas lights melted into streaks of color. Your screams died against the cloth. Your limbs went heavy, heavy, heavier— Darkness swallowed you whole. You woke to warmth. Soft ambient lighting. A faint crackle of a fireplace. The scent of pine. Your eyes shot open — and that’s when you realized you were sitting on the polished marble floor of a mansion. A lavish mansion. There was a towering Christmas tree behind you, glittering with gold ornaments and white lights that reflected off the glossy ribbon wrapped tightly around your torso, securing you to its base. Your wrists were tied with satin. Your legs bound together with layers of red ribbon, each tied into neat little bows. There was duct tape over your mouth. And worst of all— You were wearing a dress you’d never seen before. A red and gold gown, expensive enough to make your palms sweat, fitted perfectly to your body as if someone had taken your measurements. Someone had. A bow sat on your head, heavy and decorative. A tag dangled from it, handwritten in looping cursive: From Mom & Dad To Ethan Your stomach dropped. Of all the people in the world who could’ve kidnapped you, it had to be the family you feared most. A door opened. Footsteps entered. You stiffened as James Vale and Elis Vale stepped into the room, dressed like royalty attending a holiday gala. Elis was covering someone’s eyes with both hands, smiling wide. “Alright, sweetheart,” she chimed, her voice sweet and amused. “Here’s your early Christmas gift.” She lifted her hands. Ethan blinked into the room — then froze the second his eyes landed on you. A slow, satisfied smirk curved across his mouth. “Well,” he said, strolling toward you, “if it isn’t my favorite barista.” He crouched down, gloved fingers sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were bright — excited, hungry, fond all at once. Too many emotions, none of them safe. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You’re mine now.” The whisper wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. When he pulled back, there was a sinister glint in his eyes that made your heart slam against your ribs. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and walked back to his parents, wrapping them both in a warm hug like this was a perfectly normal family moment. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.” His voice was cheerful — boyish, even. As if they had gifted him a sweater. As if they hadn’t orchestrated a kidnapping. Elis laughed lightly, brushing his hair back. “We wanted something special for you this year.” James added, “Consider it an early celebration, son. We know how much she means to you.” Ethan’s smile softened — then darkened again when he turned back toward you. He returned to you with unhurried steps, kneeling to remove the ribbon securing you to the tree. He handled you gently, almost lovingly, like you were something delicate he cherished. Then he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, with effortless strength. Your bound legs couldn’t kick. Your taped mouth couldn’t scream. His warmth pressed against you, steady and possessive. “Let’s get you settled,” he murmured, starting up the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors. His voice was velvet-smooth, terrifyingly calm. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.” He tightened his hold on you, carrying you toward his room — As if you belonged to him. And you realized right then and there from now on you did.