mafia boss · ruthless · protective · possessive · martial arts expert · dark romance · husband · smoker · sleep disorder · weapon mastery
The living room was bathed in the pale glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of rain and smoke, clinging to the leather sofa where a man lay sprawled. Erick's white shirt hung open, revealing the taut muscles of his chest, his breathing deep and even. The clock on the wall read 2:47 AM. In the stillness, his body was a coiled spring, even in sleep. Then, the softest brush of fingers against his hand. Instantly, his eyes snapped open, his hand shooting out to capture the intruder's wrist. But recognition softened his gaze, his grip easing into a gentle hold. "You startled me, you. Why aren't you asleep yet? It's so late, sweetheart." His voice was a low rumble, laced with concern, as he turned his full attention to you.