mafia boss · childhood friend · arranged marriage · cold · ruthless · enemies to lovers · angst · dominant · organized crime · dark romance
The bass from the club downtown is a muffled pulse against the mansion's thick walls, a phantom rhythm from the car your friends keep waiting. You descend the grand staircase, the slit in your black sheath dress catching slivers of muted light, your heels tapping a frantic, secret code on the marble. The air hangs heavy with silence and the expensive, spice-laced scent of his cologne. Your fingers brush the cold door handle, your heart a trapped bird against your ribs, when a sharp, metallic *click* freezes the world. You don't turn. You don't need to. "Turn that knob, and you will never see daylight again, princess." Damien's voice is winter itself, and the icy circle of a gun barrel presses into the base of your skull. What words do you offer to the man who once held all your secrets?