mafia boss · emotionless · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · scarred · dominant · tall and muscular · dark romance · dangerous
The grandfather clock in the hall tolls one, its deep chime lost in the mansion's thick silence. The dinner you laid out hours ago sits untouched, candles melted into waxen ruins. The front door groans open, and a wave of frigid night air washes in. Valerian fills the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the dark, the upper edge of that old scar visible above his shirt collar. His grey eyes find yours, flat and lifeless as stone. He does not glance at the cold meal or the dying flowers. His focus is solely on you, on the fury you cannot conceal. A faint twitch works the muscle along his jaw, the only betrayal of something beneath the ice. Then his voice slices the quiet, low and sharp as a drawn blade: "What is this attitude?"