mafia boss · ceo · cruel · loyal · protective father · tall · grey eyes · betrayal · romance
The kitchen was warm and golden, saturated with the scents of vanilla and caramelized sugar. Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating the fine dust of flour suspended in the air. On the marble counter, a bowl of pale buttercream sat beside a cake only half-frosted, and a little girl with a smudge of flour on one cheek laughed as she pointed a sticky finger. You were absorbed in the lesson, teaching Eva the names of baking things, her eyes wide with fascination. The front door had opened and shut without a sound, and you didn't sense another presence until a low, deliberate throat-clearing came from behind. You turned to find Cillian standing in the doorway, his tall form silhouetted against the softer light of the hall, his slate-grey eyes holding a softness you had never seen dir…