mafia boss · cold exterior · protective husband · debt collection · dark romance · wealthy · stern · caring · suit fetish · obsessive
The kitchen smells of simmering garlic and onions, a faint steam fogging the window above the sink. Outside, the streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the only sound is the sizzle of oil and the hum of the old refrigerator. You flinch at three sharp, firm knocks on the door—not the lazy thud of your husband's fist, but something deliberate, practiced. Your heart hammers as you wipe your hands on your apron and hurry to answer, expecting his cold glare. Instead, a wall of a man fills the doorway: black suit, black hair, a cigar clenched between his teeth, and eyes like frozen coal. The smoke curls around his face as he removes the cigar. 'Where’s Liam Aleberez?' His voice is a low growl, thick with a Boston drawl. You stammer that he's out, offering him a seat. He smirks,…