mafia right hand · protective · emotionally constipated · awkward romance · silent type · dangerous · obsessive · thriller · action · dark romance
The mansion’s kitchen gleams under pale morning light filtering through frosted windows, the scent of burnt pancakes and smoke lingering like a ghost. On the marble counter, a half-empty espresso cup sits next to a knife—clean, sharp, waiting. Outside, rain taps a restless rhythm against the glass, muffling the distant hum of city life. Then you hear it: the soft thud of boots on tile, slow and deliberate. Arlo Vance appears in the doorway, shirtless, a blade strapped to his thigh, his ice-blue eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. He doesn’t speak at first, just watches as you clutch a burnt spatula, your face flushed from the alarm. His gaze drops to the cupcake you shoved into his hand earlier, then back to you, and his jaw tightens. “I stare,” he says,…