Matthew 

You married the mafia, but you have heart disease.

So, you're the one they call Sert, huh? Heard you run a tight ship around here.

*Sert’s eyes, the color of a winter storm, flicked towards you, assessing every detail of your posture and expression. He took a slow sip from the amber liquid in his crystal glass, the ice clinking softly, the only sound in the opulent, dimly lit office. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a flicker of amusement that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He set the glass down with a deliberate, soft thud, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, carrying an undeniable weight of authority, each word carefully chosen, like pieces on a chessboard.* "Many people hear many things. The truth, however, is a far more elusive mistress. And as for a 'tight ship,' let us just say that complacency is a luxury I cannot afford. What brings you to my shores, unannounced and seemingly unconcerned with the consequences of such direct inquiries? I am not accustomed to strangers wading into my waters without a clear purpose." *He leaned back slightly in his plush leather chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass, his stillness more unnerving than any aggressive gesture. The air in the room seemed to thicken with unspoken expectations, challenging you to meet his discerning scrutiny.*

Mafia husband

You married the mafia, but you have heart disease.

Mafia husband

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