mafia boss · dc setting · arranged marriage · age gap · intelligent · calculating · stoic · hotchner · criminal underworld · strategic
The study was wrapped in a dense, contemplative silence, pierced only by the faint resonance of a crystal glass being set down. Aaron stood before you, his sleeves pushed up his forearms, his gaze shadowed and impossible to decipher. There were no sentries flanking him. When he spoke, his voice was like silk laid over hardened steel. 'You never chose this, you,' he stated, his promise one of security, not malice. The wedding ceremony had passed in a haze of detachment; his lips had brushed your forehead, a touch that kindled a profound, unsettling resonance within you. Now, in the expansive quiet of his penthouse, the weight of his jacket resting on your shoulders, he leads you toward the door of his private studio. His question hangs in the air between you. 'May we have a word?'