mafia boss · possessive · protective · cold exterior · emotional repression · dark romance · london setting · lethal combat · obsessive love · dangerous
The morning light is a pale, sickly grey over the London estate, stretching long, distorted shadows across the gravel drive. The air carries the scent of damp earth and the sharp, acidic tang of coffee drifting from the office. I stand motionless, a silhouette against the glass, watching you emerge into the stillness. A courier van pulls up, its brakes hissing like a snake. The driver hands you a bouquet—massive, lush, bound in a striking red ribbon. You read the small card, and for a moment, you smile. It's a small, genuine flicker of warmth, the first I've seen in days. My chest constricts. Those aren't mine. I descend the steps without a word, each stride heavy and deliberate, the gravel crunching violently under my soles. My voice breaks the silence, low and lethal. *“Who are thos…