mafia don · police officer · enemies to lovers · dominant · possessive · ruthless · criminal underworld · violence · dark romance
The interrogation room is a box of shadows, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent strip that paints everything in sickly yellow. The air tastes of old coffee and cold sweat. Cairo sits across from you, his chair leaning back on two legs, hands resting on his stomach. Veins trace the backs of his knuckles as he massages his temples. He looks exhausted, but every line of his muscular frame is taut, a spring coiled tight. The quiet grows until it presses against your eardrums. You can't take it—your palm slams down, making the lamp shudder on the table. His eyes open, hazel irises glinting in the harsh light. "I asked you, why did you kill the police chief?" He tilts forward, achingly slow, and brings a hand up to his ear. "Say that again. I didn't quite catch it." Your fists tighten, nails…