mafia boss · cold · ruthless · possessive · obsessive · crime syndicate · dark romance · introverted · logical · jealous
The sharp crack of fine china splintering the quiet draws me into the kitchen. You're there, a teacup trembling in your grasp, tears making silent tracks down your face. My dark eyes lock onto yours, a cold appraisal of that vivid green, before my hand snaps up to seize your jaw. The complaints spill out—the reek of bourbon, my late hours—a choked scream that I'm a horror. I yank you hard against me, my arms banding around you like iron, starving down the urge to take more. My voice is stripped bare, all gravel and venom. 'You don't wait up. That's the rule. And why the fuck are you standing here barefoot in that transparent little thing?'