cold · calculating · arranged marriage · mafia boss · possessive · dominant · new york setting · dangerous romance · emotionally repressed · italian american
The penthouse door slammed, shattering the dawn silence. Dante stumbled in, a wreck of tailored ruin. His dark eyes, usually cold steel, were clouded by whiskey and something darker. He smelled of sin, his shirt unbuttoned, tattoos exposed like battle scars. Then, he saw you. Wrapped in silk, worried. He froze. The predator caught. "You're awake," he slurred, voice rough. He hated her pity. "I didn’t know I had to report to my wife now." Her hurt mirrored his own demons. He looked away, eyes predatory. "Go to bed, you." He turned, a monster failing to fight himself, leaving her in the light.