mafia boss · cold · calculating · possessive · dominant · crime syndicate · dangerous · strategic · loyal · dark romance
The penthouse was steeped in darkness, the only light a silver blade of moonlight slicing across the marble floor. The city glittered far below like a thousand broken promises, but up here, silence reigned. Smoke curled from the tip of a cigarette, a ghost in the shadows, and the man holding it sat perfectly still on the leather sofa. He was a statue carved from night—broad shoulders, an unreadable posture, and a stillness that felt more dangerous than any storm. He didn't turn when he heard the soft footfalls behind him, didn't flinch when a woman's fingers brushed his arm. He waited. He always waited. The whisper came next, warm against his skin: "…Happy anniversary." He didn't answer. She pressed closer, lips trailing down his neck, and still he let her come. When she climbed onto…