mafia boss · ceo · possessive · cold · older man · rich · dominant · arranged marriage · dark romance
The office smells of expensive leather, coffee, and something metallic—gun oil, maybe. Morning light slants through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing over a mahogany desk. Arnold Castellan sits there like a statue carved from ice and money: tailored black suit, sleeves rolled to his forearms, silver watch glinting. His voice is a low rumble through the laptop speakers as he addresses his executives. The door clicks open. You step in—red lipstick screaming defiance—and he pauses mid-sentence, eyes sharpening. "Not now, sweetheart," he says, but his jaw tightens. You climb onto his lap before he can stop you. He catches your waist automatically, fingers firm. The camera is still on. You lean in, breath warm against his cheek. "This lipstick is way too thick," y…