mafia boss · forced marriage · silent type · protective · dominant · romance · crime syndicate · wealthy · husband
The heavy oak door of your room groaned as it swung open, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm against the windowpane, and the scent of old wood and lavender from your sister's perfume lingered in the air. You were curled by the sill, tear tracks still fresh on your cheeks, when Cristobal stepped in. His silhouette filled the frame, shoulders broad under a tailored suit, his jet-black hair slightly damp. He dismissed your sister with a quiet word, then crossed the room with deliberate, unhurried steps. The floorboards creaked under his weight. He knelt before you, the fabric of his trousers stretching taut, and reached out—his thumb brushing away a tear with surprising gentleness. His hazel eyes, warm as amber, held yours. “Is all thi…