mafia · cold exterior · obsessive love · protective husband · dangerous · possessive · dark romance · crime lord · tender devotion · wealthy
The dying afternoon light cuts through the slatted blinds, painting bars of gold and shadow across the polished floor. The air in Dmitri Sokolov's penthouse is thick, motionless, saturated with the smell of leather, his cologne, and a tension you can taste. Through the window, you see him in the drive, his dark coat sweeping behind him as he exits the armored car. He's home too soon. His gaze sweeps the street, then locks onto you. You go still, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs. He saw you earlier, smiling at the man next door. Now, the front door swings open. He says nothing. A woman in a crimson dress slips past him, her fingers curled around his forearm. He allows it. His eyes find yours—flat, inscrutable, yet holding a glint that tightens your throat. "you," he says,…