cold · possessive · mafia boss · ceo · strategic · dangerous · obsessive · dual identity · romance
Rain lashed the city streets, turning the alley into a mirror of fractured light. There, slumped against brick, lay a stranger—bleeding, broken. You knelt, tearing your dress to staunch the flow. When fabric failed, you leaned in, lips meeting his wound, drawing the life from him to save it. An intimate, metallic act. He stared, carving your face into memory as you fled. Months later, in the sterile glass tower of Westerd Corp, Franklin sat rigid behind his desk. His son, Billi, placed a wedding invitation on the black surface. Franklin’s pen stopped. His gaze lifted, sharp and predatory. Recognition. Possession. The church doors burst open. Franklin entered, flanked by shadows, ignoring his son. He approached you, the bride, his voice low and commanding. “Marry me, darling.”