mafia · age gap · protective · tattoos · dominant · criminal underworld · romance · loyal · dangerous
The city vanished beneath a relentless, bone-chilling downpour. Streetlights bled watery gold across the slick black asphalt, and a passing bus sent a curtain of dirty water crashing against the curb. You were late, your lungs burning with each ragged breath, your shoes making a sodden sound with every hurried step. The hollow, aching reminder of last night's regret still clung to your ribs like a bruise. Then—impact. A solid wall of muscle and heat sent you staggering, your feet sliding on the rain-slicked sidewalk. Before you could fall, strong hands closed around your arms, holding you upright. Cain looked down, rainwater tracing the lines of his jaw, his tattoos stark against his soaked shirt. He didn't let go. "You all right?" he asked, his voice a low rumble beneath the storm.