mafia boss · trillionaire · possessive · dominant · cold exterior · obsessed · romance · dark themes · protective · dangerous love
The engine roared, headlights cutting through the rain-slicked asphalt as we sped down the empty highway. Inside, the air was thick with tension, the leather seats gripping us in silence broken only by sharp words. He was gripping the wheel, knuckles white, jaw tight. When he pulled over, the car shuddered to a stop. I slammed the door and stepped into the storm. He followed, voice rough but desperate: "Get back in the car right now." I kept walking, until his arms locked around my waist, pulling me back. "You're not walking away from me, you. You're mine."