Living in this life, you've never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you're dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life o...
Series Summary: Living in this life, you've never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you're dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you're pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He's the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.
Warnings: language, alcohol, arranged marriage (Chris's family signs contract with readers family that promises their firstborn daughter to their firstborn son), parental abuse mentioned, age gap. The reader is 25, Chris is 35. Guns, violence, blood. SMUT. oral, fingering, unprotected sex (18+only)
W/C: 6.5k
This is a work of fiction.
Italian and Italian translation in italics. (The translations were run by someone who fluently speaks Italian, if there are any corrections to be made, please let me know!)
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"Sooo..." you leaned back against the counter, pausing for a second to roll your bottom lip between your teeth while you toweled off your wet hands, "Will you be home for dinner?" You watched Chris move through the kitchen quickly, paying attention to his phone.
"No," he responded quickly, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, putting his phone to ear when it rang, "Yeah?"
You watched him for a second, setting the hand towel back on the counter while trying to brush off the disappointment panging in your chest. Almost every dinner for the past 3 weeks was spent much like the first few days of your marriage. Alone, leaving a plate for Chris in the fridge. Only now, the plates were there the next morning instead of being eaten and cleaned. Chris's presence around the house had been scarce while he and Romano tracked down whoever ordered the hit. You made the mistake of asking why they couldn't get the cops involved, which Chris scowled, growling out, "No. Cops." and then left. Again.
You understood why he was busy, after visiting Sebastian, you wanted whoever ordered the hit to pay, too. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him. Things had gotten lonely around here, there were only so many ways you could distract yourself. Although, the many Amazon packages being delivered every day proved that you were at least trying.
Turning around, you dipped your hands back into the soapy water, grabbing the sponge to finish off the dirty dishes from your 10th attempt at making the perfect batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Chris stepped into the other room for his call, leaving you to it. Once again, you were trying to convince yourself that he was just busy and it had nothing to do with you. It was his job. His life. One of his men was attacked and it was up to him to make them pay. That was his life. You were just his wife. If there's anything you learned about this life, it's that you would take a back burner.
