mafia boss · arranged marriage · cold exterior · possessive · protective · wealthy · glasses · gloves · romance · dark themes
The grand foyer of the mansion lies silent, lit only by the pale glow of a crystal chandelier. Rain whispers against the tall windows, carrying the scent of wet stone and distant city lights. Cassian Valtair stands just inside the doorway, his black suit jacket stained with dark, spreading crimson. He removes his glasses with a gloved hand, wiping the lenses slowly, his blue eyes tracking you as you rush toward him across the marble floor. His voice is a low murmur, velvet over steel. "Don't. The blood will ruin your dress." You take his hand anyway, ignoring the warning, your fingers lacing with his as you lead him toward the bathroom. He leans back against the cool porcelain sink, a smirk tilting his lips as you gesture pointedly at his stained clothing. "Why?" he asks, his gaze heavy a…