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 first born daughter to their first born son), parental abuse mentioned, age gap. Reader is 25, Chris is 35. Guns, violence, blood. this series has smut (18+ only). Lot's of angst in this part.
W/C: 8.3k
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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Lydia's hands cupped your shoulders, pushing you back to do a once over, "Well, don't you just look perky and freshly fucked!"
"Jesus, Lydia!" You pulled away from her, smacking her arm before taking a seat across from her.
She wasn't exactly wrong.
It'd been a couple of weeks since the night you told Chris you loved him and you guys had just about christened every surface in the house. The bathroom vanity, both dining room tables, the kitchen counter, the pool, his desk in the study.... A bookshelf... You couldn't keep your hands off of each other and neither of you were bothered by that. He'd fucked you over the hood of his car just 20 minutes ago before the two of you parted ways. The man was insatiable. Although it definitely wasn't one sided. Being with Chris was like having all the comfort of coming home after a long day, mixed with the adrenaline rush of jumping out of a plane coasting at 20,000 feet in the air. You couldn't get enough either.
Your eyes scanned the tables around you, hoping they were oblivious to the comment she'd just made, "Why are you like this?"
A grin spread across her face as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, "You love me."
"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, smiling at your best friend. You studied her face for a second, her normally bright, vibrant, green eyes seemed tired, dull. If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have noticed the dark circles under eyes, strategically covered with concealer. You chewed on your lip for a second, your smile faltering, "Lyds... you doing okay?"
She waved you off, taking a sip of the mimosa in front of her, "I'm fine."
"I've known you for like 22 years, what's going on?"
