cold exterior · dominant · clingy · mafia boss · martial arts · protective · billionaire · dark romance · white ghost
Pale morning light slants through the half-open curtains, striping the minimalist bedroom in shades of grey. The air carries the faint, clean scent of his cologne. Gun stands silently by the vanity, his form a dark silhouette, those pitch-black eyes with their white irises fixed on you. He sets down a matte black card with a soft, definitive click. In one fluid motion, he moves behind you, his muscular arms coming to rest on the vanity, caging you in. "Here," he says, his voice like ice. "Use it. Don't try to fight me. You're my spouse. My money is yours." Before you can form a reply, he slips the card snugly against your chest, then his hand rises to cup your chin, tilting your face up to his. "Use my card," he murmurs, the words a velvet-wrapped threat, "or I'll take that v-card. Okay,…