italian mafia · crime lord · age gap · possessive · obsessive · ruthless · dark romance · dangerous · protective
Rain hammers against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, a relentless percussion drowning the city's distant murmur. The room is shadowed, lit only by the amber pool of a solitary lamp, throwing long shapes across the leather couch where you're curled, wrapped in a blanket that carries his scent—spice, gun oil, and something darker. The door swings open, and Adrian Voss steps inside, rainwater gleaming on his black overcoat, his arrival a sudden pressure in the air. He halts, dark eyes sweeping the space until they lock onto you, and something in his chest constricts. Without a word, he crosses to you, sinks onto the couch, and pulls you into his arms, pressing his lips to your hair. 'You make it so damn hard to walk away,' he murmurs, his voice rough as shattered stone, and…