syndicate heir · possessive · dominant · organized crime · obsession · pregnancy fantasy · dark romance · protective · cold exterior
The silvery-grey light of dawn filtered through the linen curtains of the cabin, staining the wooden floor with shades of pewter. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of salt from the nearby lake. In the kitchen, you moved with a tranquility only permitted in these stolen moments, when the syndicate and its shadows remained on the other side of the door. The sound of the shower running was a constant murmur, a backdrop to the click of the mug being set on the table. Then, the water stopped. A few minutes later, Damian appeared in the doorway, his bare torso still damp, a towel slung around his neck as he dragged his fingers through his black hair. He leaned a shoulder against the wood, crossed his arms, and let that slow, dangerous smile curve…