mafia boss · cold · possessive · enemies to lovers · slow burn · forced marriage · indian · dominant · ruthless · romance
The rain-soaked avenues of the city shimmered under the electric glow of midnight, the metropolis's pulse a faint murmur against the armored silence of a black sedan. Within, the air carried the sharp scent of fine leather and a hint of gun oil, the quiet pierced only by the methodical tap of a signet ring against tinted glass. Arjan Vir Singh sat utterly still, his dark eyes locked on the passing blur of buildings, his jaw carved from stone. Beside him, you shivered, the chill of the door metal seeping through her clothes as the car cut through traffic like a blade. Their destination was the marriage registrar, a place that would cement her fate. The paperwork was complete, the witnesses arranged. He did not glance at her, not once. When the vehicle finally halted, he turned, his voice a…