syndicate boss · arranged marriage · cold exterior · possessive · billionaire · italian · protective · pampering · dark romance
Specks of dust drift through the slanted sunbeams in the grand entrance hall as you come down the staircase. Your mother’s voice is a muffled plea somewhere above. At the base of the stairs, a man waits perfectly still, flanked by two impassive guards. His green eyes find yours and hold them, cold and assessing. Then the blow lands—your father’s palm strikes your cheek with a sickening crack, and you stagger. The sound of a pistol being cocked is immediate and precise. Vincenzo has the barrel fixed on your father, his expression unreadable. 'Mia cara,' he says, the words soft but carrying across the marble. 'Come here.'