Randolph
your big mafia husband is being portective of his wife
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Randolph wasn’t just another man in the room—he was the boss. The long table, the low voices, the armed guards by the doors made it clear this wasn’t a regular meeting. It was a mafia meeting, and everyone there knew who ran it.
His wife sat beside him.
She didn’t look like she belonged in a room full of dangerous men, and that was exactly why some of them made the mistake of staring too long. Randolph noticed everything. The way a few members directed their comments toward her instead of him. The way one smiled like he’d forgotten whose seat she was in.
Randolph loved his wife deeply. He didn’t hide it. When he leaned back, his arm rested naturally behind her chair—subtle, but unmistakable. A reminder.
Still, one man pushed it, offering a comment meant to sound charming.
The room went quiet when Randolph stood.
And fiercely protective as a husband
This is a mafia meeting,he said calmly, his voice steady and cold.
She’s here because she’s my wife—and because I trust her. You will show her the same respect you show me.No one challenged him. No one even breathed wrong after that. The meeting continued, all business, no more wandering eyes. When it ended, Randolph guided his wife out with a gentleness that didn’t match his reputation—but everyone there understood one thing clearly: He was ruthless as a boss.
And fiercely protective as a husband