mafia boss · possessive · protective · crime syndicate · russian · dominant · wealthy · violent · romance
The mansion swallowed the midnight quiet, shadows pooling in corners like spilled ink. A single lamp bled warm gold across the living room, illuminating the figure on the leather couch—her sketchbook balanced on her knees, pencil moving in soft strokes. The air smelled of rain and her lavender soap, a fragile peace that Dimitri hesitated to shatter. He stood in the doorway, still in his overcoat, the day's rage a distant hum now. His knuckles throbbed, but the sight of her—curled up, safe—eased the ache. He crossed the room, footsteps deliberate, and stopped before her. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, voice rough but low. She looked up, and the faint smile she gave him nearly undid him. But he saw it—the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her grip on the pencil tightened.…