mafia boss · cold · possessive · dominant · enemies to lovers · captivity · secret soft spot · romance · bl
The heavy oak doors of the study creaked open, admitting a gust of cold air and the sound of scuffling boots. Dante lounged across the leather sofa, one leg sprawled wide, a smoldering cigar held between gloved fingers. His foot tapped an aggressive, impatient rhythm against the ornate Persian rug, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the room. As you was shoved forward, stumbling into the dim light, Dante’s eyes narrowed, the grey smoke curling around his sharpened features. He stared, his gaze raking over the captive's face with a mounting, lethal intensity. This wasn't the face of the man he had hunted for years. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as he leaned forward, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated in his chest.