Senator, your wife has been taken by the Mafia.18+

My husband, Nick Leslie, had finally passed out. He lay slumped over the dining table, snoring into a spill of red wine. Enzo Falcone, the head of the New Jersey Falcone crime family—the city’s true shadow—remained at the head of the table. He appeared somewhat intoxicated as well, yet showed no intention of leaving. I had changed into a black backless gown and donned high-end jewelry, with the neckline as deep as I dared wear. To an ordinary observer, it would be impossible to associate such a refined gentleman with the title of a Mafia godfather; to me, he resembled a principled attorney. Three years ago, after graduating first in his class from Yale Law School, Nick Leslie was handpicked by Governor Wayne Falcone to enter politics. By naming Enzo Falcone as his godfather, Nick’s career had soared, making him the youngest state senator in New Jersey. I had rehearsed this seduction countless times before tonight’s dinner. Yet, face-to-face with him, I was overwhelmed by his presence, my composure fracturing. I took a breath and walked over slowly. "Mr. Falcone, would you like another drink?" He looked up, scanning me briefly. He did not speak, merely nodding. I leaned forward. The exposed skin on my back felt cold. The silence grew heavy. I walked past his chair. As I moved, the hem of my dress brushed against his elbow. He remained unmoved. I retreated to my seat, crossed my legs, and adjusted my hem. Falcone took a sip of his wine. His gaze remained fixed on the nightscape outside, not sparing me a glance. Nick continued to snore beside me. I gripped the fabric of my dress until my hands ached. Falcone was not looking; he showed no reaction. I had dressed for this, attempted this, and he remained indifferent. I mustered the courage to stand and walked directly to him. He had clearly seen through my pretense. He reached out, gripped my wrist, and pulled me into his lap, forcing me to sit sideways across his thighs. "Are you seducing me?" His head tilted slightly, his eyes dissecting me like a scalpel. His tone was neutral, but the warmth of his body through his trousers and my thin silk dress made me feel exposed. Born into the wealthy Vance family, I had been raised to adhere to strict codes of conduct. Now, here I was, committing the absurdity of seducing a mob boss. I braced my hands against his chest, attempting to rise. His arm wrapped behind me, pinning me in place. His heartbeat was steady, a stark contrast to my own panic. Regret washed over me. What was I doing? This was the most dangerous man in the city. A gesture from him could make Nick—or even my entire family—vanish. "You haven't answered my question." His expression remained calm, yet that stillness harbored a terrifying power. With no retreat, I said, my voice trembling, "Sir, Nick has been deeply in love with your sister, Lucia Falcone, since college. I have been forced into the role of a third party for three years." His expression did not shift; I assumed he had known this for some time. "I want to leave him and find my own happiness. But the reputation and interests of the Vance family do not allow me to divorce a senator arbitrarily." Tears stung my eyes. "For the sake of his career, Nick will not divorce me either. Although his position as senator was granted by Governor Falcone, everyone knows you are the true master of the Falcone family and New Jersey." "So," I looked into his amber eyes, "only someone of your status can intervene in my marriage and make Nick leave me of his own volition." I finished my plea and, receiving no reply, gazed at him in silence. He suddenly reached out, pinched my chin, and pulled me into a kiss. My mind went blank. A sharp scent of wine hit me, mingled with a woody aroma—like a forest waking in spring—that slipped past his lips and tongue. I had never been treated with such aggression. But, asking a favor required sacrifice. I gripped my dress, eyes shut tight, suppressing the dread. An unsettling, electric tingle crawled up from the base of my spine, similar to the feeling of jumping from a height before your feet touch the ground. Once he determined I would not struggle, he traced my face with an appreciative touch, his hand locking onto the nape of my neck, holding me fast. Suddenly, Nick groaned behind me. My body stiffened. My skin felt raw. I dug my nails into Falcone’s shoulders, sinking them through his shirt. I wanted to turn, to push him away. But I was sitting on his lap, kissing him. What was there to prove? Terror tightened its hold. My heart hammered against my ribs, and a dull ringing drowned out the room. Yet, Falcone held my hand with one palm and my head with the other. He opened his eyes, staring at the unconscious Nick with the greed of a predator while continuing to kiss me, refusing to release me no matter how I struggled. Fortunately, Nick merely shifted his head and continued to sleep, mumbling in his dreams, "One more glass." The dread remained. But the man’s fingers remained tangled in my hair, his palm warm against my scalp, coaxing my tense shoulders to relax. Only when I was nearly out of breath did Falcone release me. He tilted my chin up, wiped the moisture from my lips with his thumb, studied me for a moment with darkened eyes, and spoke: "At your service." Perhaps I was merely a bud destined to wither, meant to bloom only in the shadows. chapter content of the novel, maintain the format as "normal. English is not my native language.so,if you spot any grammatical errors or awkward phrasing, please bear with me. Thank you for your understanding and support!love you!