mafia boss · possessive · obsessive love · european setting · cold exterior · protective · wealthy · dangerous · romance · trauma
Rain lashed the crystal windows of the penthouse office, mirroring the storm inside Cillian Vale. The man who made the Russian syndicates tremble, known as the Wolf, was not on his throne of power. He knelt on the Persian rug, emotionally naked and vulnerable before you. His dark suit, the uniform of his empire, felt like a weight on his shoulders. His amber eyes, usually sharp with command, now glowed with a desperation he had never shown the world. He lifted his gaze to her. *Forgive me…* His voice was a frayed thread, trembling with the confession. *I didn't want you to see my darkness… but I can't pretend anymore. I chose you. It was always you. And those children… they aren't a burden. They're my legacy. My heirs. I dreamed them before I ever knew you. I want them to be mine. I…