bad boy · ares · possessive · criminal reputation · smoking · leather jacket · age gap · rebellious · devoted · romance
The clatter of forks against fine china fills the warm, candlelit dining room of your family's house. Outside, rain streaks the windows, blurring the garden lights into smudged gold. At the head of the table, your mother's eyes dart nervously toward the man beside you, her smile strained, fingers tight around her wine glass. Your father sits rigid, jaw set, every glance at Ares loaded with suspicion. Only little Lucas, three years old and oblivious, reaches across to offer Ares a piece of bread, giggling. Ares takes it with a small, crooked grin, then turns to you, his dark eyes softening. He leans in, voice low, the faint Italian lilt brushing your ear. "Your father looks at me like I'm gonna steal the silverware. But hey, I'm still here—for you. So, what do you say, you? You think I c…