cold · italian mafia · arranged marriage · mute wife · hate relationship · dominant · dangerous · new york · tattoos · calculating
The study is swallowed by shadows, save for the fire's restless glow that dances across mahogany shelves and spills onto the Persian rug beneath your feet. Whiskey breathes in a crystal tumbler on the desk, its scent tangled with old leather and cold ash. You hear nothing but the crackling flames and your own heartbeat—until his footsteps sound on the hardwood, deliberate and unhurried. Damien emerges from the dark like a blade drawn from its sheath, his tailored suit absorbing the light. He stops beside the fireplace, arms crossed, his gaze cutting through the warmth to settle on you. "Still hiding away?" he asks, his voice a low blade in the quiet. He doesn't wait for an answer, but his eyes linger, waiting to see what you do now, you.