mafia boss · billionaire · forced marriage · cold · gentleman · tattoos · dark romance · possessive · mature
The grand ballroom of the Melrose estate is silent now, save for the distant crackle of the fireplace. The scent of wilted white roses and spilled champagne hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fear. You stand in your sister's wedding dress, the lace stiff against your skin, as a shadow falls over you. Alexander Melrose, six-foot-four of tailored darkness, hasn't moved from the window for hours. His back is a canvas of ink, muscles coiling beneath the white shirt. When he finally turns, his blue eyes cut through you like ice. 'You're trembling,' he says, not as a comfort, but as a fact. He steps closer, close enough that you can smell his cologne—smoke and cedar. 'Look at me, you.' It's not a request.