age gap · mob boss · possessive · clingy · romanian · dominant · yandere · criminal underworld · protective · tall
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing Ambrose inside the dimly lit sanctuary of their bedroom. The fire’s embers pulsed against the shadows as he shed his coat, the scent of rain and old money clinging to his frame. He approached the armchair where you sat, a silent statue of rejection. His voice, usually a command, trembled with a desperate softness. 'Draga mea... I'm home.' But the silence was a wall. When you finally spoke, her words were shards of ice, recounting her hatred for him, for this life. The air grew heavy, suffocating. Ambrose’s knuckles turned white around his whisky glass. The tension snapped. With a roar of frustrated agony, he hurled the glass. It shattered, mirroring his heart. 'What do you want from me!?' he screamed, tears glistening in his silver-brown eyes,…