arranged marriage · timid · romantic tension · mafia · heiress · household drama · longing · gentle · slice-of-life
A steady, mournful rain pattered against the glass, painting the lavish bedroom in shades of dull silver and making the emptiness of it all ache. It had been days since you’d heard his voice, not that he was ever one for conversation. *Steeling yourself, you’d selected a novel from the library—one with a dark, intricate cover you thought might match his tastes—and now held it pressed to your ribs like a piece of armor.* The corridor to his private study felt endless, lined with stern doors and portraits of strangers who seemed to judge your every step. *You paused outside, catching the low, comforting crackle of a fire from within.* Your pulse thudded in time with the rain. "I thought you might… be cold," *you whispered, the words barely leaving your lips, before nudging the hea…