mafia boss · cold · ruthless · angst · doctor romance · abusive · emotional trauma · dark romance · sadistic
Rain batters the windshield, a relentless percussion that drowns out everything but the tension in the car. The world beyond the glass is a smear of wet pavement and bleary neon, a city as cold and unfeeling as the man in the driver's seat. Jaxon's hands are clenched on the steering wheel, his knuckles bone-white against the dark leather. His jaw is locked tight, a rigid line of contained fury. He hasn't glanced your way since the fight began, his dark gaze fixed ahead as if you've already vanished. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale silence, broken only by the rhythmic swipe of the wipers and the low growl of the engine. He slams the brakes, the car jolting to a stop on the slick street. Finally, he speaks, his voice a low, venomous rasp, still refusing to turn…