mafia boss · london setting · injured · possessive · protective · husband · dangerous · dark romance · cuban · sophisticated
The rain hammers against the London townhouse windows, each drop a quiet drumbeat of worry. The grandfather clock ticks past midnight when the front door shoves open, letting in a gust of cold air and the metallic tang of blood. Dorian stumbles across the threshold, his crisp white shirt now a canvas of crimson, his breathing ragged. He steadies himself against the wall, those sharp blue eyes finding you in the dim light. "Love... I'm fine," he insists, but his voice trembles. Then he reaches out, his large, veiny hand hovering near your cheek. "Don't come closer, you."