. 𐔌 . ᥲ𝗓𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖺 : ഒ

at first, you felt so insecure. mafiaboss!taylor's house was giant, and she was hardly ever there. all your company were the chefs, the cleaning ladies, and the guards who watched every entrance. sometimes you could hear murmurs of unthinkable things—men talking about cleaning up bodies and employees whispering about the white powder spilled on the floor that they had to sweep up later. you weren't stupid. you knew what taylor did, where her money came from, and that her business was anything but clean. you knew you couldn't escape, and you didn't really want to either. you were just... resigned.

mafiaboss!taylor didn't take long to realize that you expected to be treated like a prisoner, like a woman who, sooner or later, they would put to dance in one of the many bars that taylor owned in the city. she noticed it by how you acted around her—always so careful, fearful, without breathing too loudly because you didn't want her to notice your presence. you were afraid of her, and no, that wasn't what taylor was going to have. from that moment on, even though it could be dangerous, she took you with her to la. her property was a sprawling, modern architectural estate tucked high up in the canyon hills behind massive double gates where you had everything a girl could dream of: infinity pools, private chefs, sunny days, and waking up to the massive hollywood sign visible through your room window.

"matthew," taylor extended her hand toward him, a guard standing tall right next to the front door. was that a gun in his belt?

"miss swift," he shook her hand with respect, nodding in greeting. "who's the lady?" he jerked his head toward you. you were standing, or rather hiding, behind the blonde, your purse clutched tightly in your hands to keep them from trembling.

"oh, this?" taylor stepped aside, her hand coming up to caress the top of your hair as if showing off a puppy. "this is my future wife, matthew. taylor's not home; she calls the shots. her every desire is law from now on in this house. spread the word."

"yes, miss swift," matthew replied without hesitation, bowing his head respectfully to you. "welcome home, ma'am."

future wife? did you hear that right?

in that house, it was a shock how overnight you started to be treated like a literal queen. mafiaboss!taylor was gone in the morning before you woke up (yes, you slept together, her hugging you from behind and you trying not to move an inch while she snored in your ear), but she made sure everything was absolutely perfect for you. on your nightstand, she left a new credit card that she somehow managed to get in pink, with a note that said: "this is yours. buy anything that makes you smile, dear," along with all the details you needed to know to shop unassisted. after that, a woman came to bring you breakfast in bed: a banana and strawberry smoothie with a bowl of yogurt and fruit. how did she know what you liked? later, after you showered, you found that the closet was ridiculously gorgeous and decorated in a way that was so you that you could almost cry. and there was so much beautiful, new clothing, and shoes, and purses, and jewelry... you felt like you were in a dream.

little by little, you stopped being so indifferent to mafiaboss!taylor, your fear dissipating but not disappearing. slowly you had realized that she was apparently unpredictable. one moment she could be whispering to you how precious you were, and the next she could be answering a call, shouting and cursing bloody murder on the phone before returning to you and going back to that soft, tender version of herself. you didn't know whether to be worried or relieved.

when mafiaboss!taylor came home for the night, she once found you lying on the couch with your eyes closed, a pink robe on, a humidifier beside you, and a face mask spread all over your face. her heart almost exploded. god, this was how she loved to see you. without you realizing it, she practically ran to her room to change and clean up quickly so she could return to you and admire how relaxed you looked. she was back in the living room just minutes later, and you were still in the exact same position.

"i see you're enjoying yourself," she muttered after just staring at you for a few seconds. you jumped slightly, startled as you lifted your head from one of the cushions, opening your eyes and blinking at the harsh, sudden light from the ceiling.

"yeah, uh..." you closed your eyes again, giving up. "i am."

"i'm glad." she nodded, leaning against the backrest of the couch with her arms folded, looking down at you. "this is how i want you to be. no worries, just living like the queen you are."

you scoffed. "i'm not a queen."

"don't you feel like one? well, shit, guess i have some work to do."

you had been so wrapped up in your new lifestyle that you didn't even have time to realize how taylor was slowly pulling you away from your family (as if you were ever close to them anyway). you finally noticed when she took you to dinner with some clients that turned out to be an unexpected meeting with some of her business partners, among whom was, well... your dad. you had been under taylor's arm all night, wrapped up in a beautiful pink dress she bought for you. you were not smiling much, not clinging, just letting yourself be held by her. you laughed when you felt you should and answered questions with polite but short answers, while taylor could only stare at you like a silly, lovestruck woman. for her, everything was perfect when suddenly he approached. she had tried so hard to keep you away from them because your family was nothing but opportunists. they would not hesitate to latch onto you like leeches and suck money out of her pocket through you, and she did not want to give them another cent. however, keeping you away wasn't hidden. she also made sure to send them pictures of you from time to time, showing them just how much you were enjoying yourself: you trying on a diamond necklace, eating your meticulously designed breakfasts prepared solely for you, or practicing yoga with your personal instructor on your sunny terrace.

"baby? oh my goodness, honey," your dad's hands hovered close to your face, a smile so fake it made taylor sick plastered on his face.

"oh—" you blinked a few times, surprised he was here. it had been like... what? two months? and he hadn't even tried to contact you once. but you guessed it was just because taylor changed your line and your phone, so you let it slide. like everything. taylor thought you were so oblivious. "daddy, hi. oh, hi," you breathed out, hugging him tightly.

he hugged you back, patting your shoulder blades awkwardly before stepping back. okay? "long time no see, sweetheart, yes. how's it going? i've seen you enjoying your new life, leaving your family behind..."

you tilted your head like a confused puppy. "no..." your brow furrowed. meanwhile, taylor was standing behind you, smoke coming out of her ears. "no, i haven't. but you haven't texted me once. why is that?"

"oh, well, taylor's—"

"hello, robert." taylor finally spoke up, extending her hand toward him. "good to see you. your daughter is quite amazing—the only good thing you've ever given me, i'd say."

you both talked for a while, a conversation that ended with your dad trying to convince you to ask taylor to finance a project of your brother's that you had nothing to do with and wouldn't benefit from either, and you realized. he didn't miss you or want anything to do with you; what he wanted was taylor's money. and you realized that maybe losing contact with them wasn't so horrible.

mafiaboss!taylor didn't even know what to expect from you when you got in the suv to go home. she had noticed that you were as sensitive as you were indifferent, and maybe you would end up crying or shrinking into yourself in your seat like you had been doing for these past two months. but now that you were in there, something changed in you. when taylor introduced you at dinner as her future wife, instead of feeling scared, you felt... excited, special. halfway through the night, you realized that you were no longer simply letting yourself be held; you were holding her back, fiddling with the snake ring on her left middle finger, adjusting the collar of her dress shirt, or making sure the pendant of her necklace was well positioned. and you knew what it was: you were in love. so you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid toward her, then sat on her lap and buried your head in her neck without a word.

"huh?" she looked down at you with wide eyes, her hands immediately settling on your waist to keep you steady. "baby? what happened? are you okay?"

"i am. i just... felt like cuddling. can we do that?"

you hadn't even finished speaking when taylor was already rubbing her cheek against your forehead like a cat marking its territory with its scent, her arms wrapping around you completely as she pressed you to her chest. her heart was beating so fast... you could feel it clearly. and maybe yours was too, just to keep pace.

one of your worst experiences with mafiaboss!taylor was accidentally finding one of her victims. you had no idea these things happened in your basement, so, on a day like any other, you decided to go down because you couldn't find the box of clothes that was supposedly delivered to your door that same morning. it was obvious that matthew or anyone else had probably put it in the basement, where unnecessary boxes and things were usually kept. you went down carelessly until you heard a strange metallic sound, accompanied by dull thuds and weak grunts. what in the world was going on in this damn basement? you crouched down on the stairs, unable to see much with the lights off. you also noticed that there was strange foam on the walls and the door was difficult to open, as if it were stuck to the floor—from disuse, perhaps. you turned on your phone's flashlight, and what you saw chilled you to the bone. a man, no younger than thirty, naked and tied to a chair with nasty cuts and bruises on his body. he was struggling against the chains that bound his hands and feet, trying to move the chair god knows why. when he opened his eyes and saw you there, he said nothing. he just stayed still, staring at you, and you at him. he didn't beg for food or water, even though he looked very pale and skinny; he didn't scream for help or ask for mercy. he just mumbled, "such a pretty thing..." and that was-

"(name)!" taylor screamed from the top of the stairs, startling you. she dragged you up, almost making you fall down. "for fuck's sake, are you crazy?!" she grabbed your jaw and forced you to look up at her. she looked mad, and you were honestly disgusted.

"i'm sorry, baby, i didn't-"

"oh my god," taylor took a step back, rubbing her face with her hands. "it's- it's fine. tell me, what did you see?"

"who is that?" you asked in a low voice, looking around to check if anyone was listening, even though probably the only one who didn't know was you. "why do you have a man tied up in our basement?"

"he did me dirty, okay?" taylor cradled your face in her hands, her fingers tangling in your hair. "that guy is a rat, my love, and i can't keep letting him slide because that's not who the s'snakes are. please tell me you're not scared."

truth is... you weren't, not really. just with that tiny interaction you had with him, you noticed just how sick that man was. so maybe taylor had her reasons.

so you slowly shook your head, making taylor sigh in relief as she pressed her lips against your forehead.

"that's my girl."

the first time you saw her tattoos was funny. mafiaboss!taylor used to always wear long sleeves like blazers, jackets, sweaters, dress shirts... even when it was hot, she made sure to set the air conditioning to 15 degrees just so she wouldn't sweat like an animal. but when the air conditioning finally broke from overuse, she gave up and finally wore a tank top. you noticed she had a snake running up her arm, faded green with age. some more recent tattoos were still black: a cross, the letter a, bullets, and a phrase you didn't even know the meaning of—something about death and dishonor. you really, really liked them. you spent half an hour inspecting all of them and asking her about them before you suggested sleeping in the living room, where the ac and fans were still working. she practically threw you over her shoulder and ran down there; she couldn't manage heat.

the first time you realized just how weak mafiaboss!taylor was for you was when you accidentally walked in on her having a phone call that was definitely ruining her day. as soon as she saw you walk through that door, your hair up, curled around socks, and your body covered by that silly pink, princess-y robe, she didn't hesitate to threaten whoever was on the other side of the phone with death in a low voice before hanging up and throwing the phone on her desk. she took you in her arms when you were close enough, taking refuge in your birthday cake scent (probably the new body wash you bought at walmart, something that made no sense to taylor at all), letting you soothe her stress while reminding you that you were the only boss in that house.

the ring arrived in the most unexpected and adorable way. mafiaboss!taylor arrived home holding a white velvet pet carrier. matthew was behind her, setting down boxes and bags, and you managed to see a bag of... cat litter? your eyes immediately widened, and you just waited for taylor to open that pet carrier.

"oh my god, no way!" you stepped back, hands covering your mouth as your eyes teared up when you saw a tiny maine coon clumsily stumbling out of the carrier. "you're kidding, taylor, no! this cannot be a joke!"

taylor huffed, watching the little furball as it started sniffing everything around it. "no, of course it isn't."

you dropped to your knees, crawling slowly to the little creature, silently sobbing. you had wanted a maine coon since you were a kid; you were so fascinated by their size and their beautiful, elegant faces, but they were so expensive... and now here it was: your very own maine coon.

"look at her collar," taylor mumbled, her voice suddenly shaky as she sat down next to you. you scooped the kitty up, and it meowed in protest as you pushed her fur out of the way.

"mommy, will you marry mama?" was what the sparkly golden tag read.

you gasped, turning your head toward taylor, and there she was, on both knees, holding a pink and gold carriage-shaped ring box open. a ring with a huge pink diamond was nestled in pink velvet. here she was, proposing to you with a runny nose and all.

not only had she gotten you the pet of your dreams, but she used it to propose.

you couldn't be any more sure that this woman was it. this was your and her endgame.

your wedding planning was total and authentic madness. two whole years went by and you were still trying to decide between freesias or peonies for your bouquet, whether you should marry in summer or spring, at the beach or forest, and everything was just so difficult. mafiaboss!taylor made sure you had everything you needed, though. you had about five wedding planners helping you and accompanying you everywhere: looking for the perfect chairs for the tables, the flower arrangements for the bridesmaids, and the most complicated part... your dress. you had gone to almost ten stores, tried on more than a hundred dresses, and were torn between "i don't like any" and "i like them all." there really was no middle ground: either you bought five dresses and wore them all the same night or you got married naked. taylor had no problem with either. even your cat, finally named priscilla, had finished growing, and now you had two other cats. taylor and you had already had sex for the first time because, even though she wanted to "save herself for marriage," she wasn't expecting you to take two years planning it. why wasn't she helping you? because, in your words, she was an incompetent who knew nothing about decoration and should go kill people and sell drugs, leaving the aesthetic part to you. who was taylor to argue with her beautiful and stubborn fiancée?

"what do you guys think about this one?" you asked as you stepped out of the dressing room, the five wedding planners and three of your bridesmaids sitting on a couch in front of it.

the dress was a total delight. you looked like nothing less than a princess with the big, voluminous skirt and the embroidered bodice. it also had deep cleavage, something that you said was a must because you wanted taylor to like it too.

their jaws dropped to the floor.

one of your bridesmaids even clapped. you looked so beautiful, even with your hair awkwardly pulled back and without any makeup. they didn't even want to imagine what you would look like with all the jewelry, your hair done, and your perfect makeup.

"i'm not even kidding; this might be it," one of the wedding planners breathed out, shaking her head in pure disbelief.

when the saleswoman placed the veil on your head, you tilted your head.

"mmm... no."

all of your friends made different sounds of shock.

"what?!"

"you're genuinely kidding."

"no way!"

"are you insane?"

you tsked, waving a dismissive hand at them. "shut up, i was talking about the veil." you turned your face side to side, the veil barely reaching your bust. was it a joke? "i want a cathedral-style veil. and a crown. have the veil come out of the crown, and have our initials sewn into the hem of the veil. make it as long and dramatic as possible, and have the crown be so heavy that it gives me a neck ache."

the saleswoman sucked in a deep breath, knowing better than to argue with you. taylor had stopped by earlier and made it very clear: what her queen wanted, her queen got. no ifs, ands, or buts. she disappeared out of the private dressing room before coming back a few minutes later with a folded veil and two crowns.

"miss, i have these two options right here. one is this silver tiara, not as flashy as you might want it to be, but it could go very well with this dress, and we could modify it to have even more stones if you'd like," you nodded along to her explanation. "this, on the other hand, isn't a crown but a headpiece. this is a kokoshnik—something married russian women used to wear."

your eyes lit up at that. oh, and it even had this very subtle pink blush to it... you pointed at it, nodding with a smile. and when the woman placed it on your head and attached the veil to it...

"yes," you blurted out, and your friends all clapped.

they were so sick of following you around for a year to find a dress; they were finally getting out of this. thank god. meanwhile, matthew just silently stared at you with the tiniest of smiles.

you'd undone the boss.

your wedding day was insane. you got married at sunset in spring on another of taylor's properties, this time in lake como, italy. as soon as taylor saw you walking down the aisle, she started to sob, and in all the ceremony photos, she came out with a red nose and teary eyes. the reception lasted all night: between her taking you from person to person to show off that you were completely hers and you dragging her to the pastry table to force her to eat something you liked, the night was incredible. much more so when taylor finally had the chance to hold you in her arms as her wife that night.