Amiftrite
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- Parts 41
ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS WHO GET SHOVED INTO A ARRANGED MARRIAGE BOOK
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They don't kiss. They clash.
They were born into violence and raised to be monsters.
He kills on command, leaves bodies as warnings, and smiles while doing it.
She's just as lethal-sharp blades, sharper words, and a temper that's ended men twice her size.
Their families are sworn enemies, their blood feud written in gunfire and graves.
Their affair was never tender.
It was teeth and nails.
Knives pressed to throats.
It was rage-fueled sex that felt like war-hands around throats, promises whispered like threats, pleasure taken out of spite.
Then their parents catch them.
Instead of punishment, they're forced into a marriage meant to stop the bloodshed. A contract signed in blood. A wedding guarded by armed men.
Now they're bound together, wearing rings like restraints. Their fights turn violent. Their nights turn feral. Hate bleeds into obsession, and obsession into something far more dangerous. They're trapped in a gilded cage, sharing a bed they swore they'd never sleep in willingly, playing devoted spouses while plotting each other's destruction.
Marriage turns their private war into a public contract. A shared bed becomes a battleground. Arguments end with hands slammed against walls, steel glinting between them, promises whispered like threats. Every touch dares the other to flinch. Every moment alone feels like it could end in blood-or something far worse.
Every argument ends with threats.
Every touch feels like a challenge.
Every night is a battle neither can afford to lose.
Because in the mafia, marriage is a weapon-and when hate tastes this good, love might be the deadliest sin of all.
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"They call it peace. I call it a prettier kind of war."
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"They call it peace. I call it a prettier kind of war."