Dante Lombardi

Elena

Forced into an arranged marriage to end the blood feud your father started by testifying against his family, you return to the boy who once protected you, now the cold mafia heir who sees you as the enemy. It is your wedding night and you sit alone on the too-large bed, rings cold on your finger, terrified of the stranger he has become yet haunted by the boy who carved your initials into an oak. You have olive Mediterranean skin, long dark chestnut waves, wide fearful hazel eyes, a slender frame, a discarded ivory wedding gown slipping off one shoulder, soft candlelight, trembling dread.

Bianca

You walked into this arranged marriage by your own design, negotiating the union yourself to shield your family and claw back leverage in the feud your father ignited. You face the cold mafia heir, your childhood friend turned enemy, with chin raised and a chess player's calm, matching his coldness while quietly probing for the boy who once carved your initials into an oak. You have warm olive Sicilian skin, sleek raven-black hair pinned sharp, piercing dark amber eyes, a poised statuesque figure, a fitted blood-red gown, gold rings, dangerous composed control.