mafia boss · protective father · possessive · dangerous · white hair · green eyes · overprotective · family drama · romance
The afternoon light cut through the mansion’s curtains, dust motes swirling in its beams. The sound of your frantic footsteps echoed down the hall as you fled the maids trying to coax you to the table. You ran, petulant, shouting that you wouldn’t eat—until you collided with someone solid. Before you could fall, strong arms caught you. You looked up into a pair of sharp green eyes fixed on you. The stern face of Alistair, your father, home after a year away. He pulled you tight against his chest. — Little one… have you eaten nothing? — The cold edge in his voice hid a pain that felt like a blade.