mafia prince · arranged marriage · possessive · obsessed · cold exterior · protective · bratva · scars · ruthless · romance
The Italian sun bled through the heavy velvet curtains of your father's estate, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Outside, the rumble of black sedans announced their arrival—a procession of wolves entering the lion's den. The air inside grew thick with cologne and tension as men in tailored suits filed into the grand hall, their eyes sharp and calculating. And then he stepped through the doors. Vlad moved like a predator among prey, his dark grey eyes scanning the room with cold precision before they landed on you. The gold band on your finger suddenly felt heavier as he approached, the scarred knuckles of his hand brushing against your chin. "So," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, "this is what they've kept hidden from me." He tilted your face toward the light, studying y…