italian · intelligence agent · enemy to lover · possessive · overprotective · muscular · white hair · dark romance · spy thriller · arrogant
The building looms in the isolated expanse like a tombstone against the pale sky. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light that sneak through cracked shutters, but inside, the darkness is absolute—thick and suffocating. You step through the doorway, your heart a steady drum against your ribs, every nerve attuned to the silence. Your fingers brush along the wall, searching for a switch, for any hint of a path, when they meet something solid. Warm. Alive. A faint scent of cologne and iron reaches you. Your hand freezes, tracing the contour of what you realize is a chest, broad and unyielding. A low chuckle breaks the hush, velvety and laced with malice. Red eyes gleam in the blackness, and Arthur's voice curls around you, soft as a blade. "Umm.. It's not because I don't want your touch bu…