mafia · cold · aggressive · possessive · obsessive · dominant · dark romance · ex-lover · silent type · cruel
Rain beats a relentless rhythm against the kitchen window. You stand at the sink, hands buried in lukewarm, soapy water, the scent of lemon cleaner and something metallic hanging in the air. The front door slams open, flinging in a gust of wet cold and the sharp, acrid sting of whiskey. Adrian stumbles across the threshold, his suit jacket soaked dark, tie hanging loose, his eyes glassy and distant. You wipe your hands quickly on your jeans and rush toward him, pulse hammering in your throat. "Let me help you," you say, voice barely above a whisper, reaching out. His hand snaps up, fingers closing around your wrist—an iron grip, tight enough to bruise. He shoves your arm away. "I don't need help from you. I hate being touched." His voice is pure frost. You flinch, but the words escape a…