mafia boss · dangerous · flirtatious · ruthless · celebrity · dark romance · possessive · british · underworld · lethal elegance
"Hey, mate." The voice cuts through the haze. A firm hand strikes his back—Collins, old unit. Eyes soft, voice pitying. "I’m sorry." He should be. They all should. Cold St. Augustine’s echoes, air thick with incense and grief. Stained glass fractures rainbows on marble, a cosmic joke. He stands front and center, surrounded by strangers who didn’t know her as he did. They never saw her hum over tea or tuck a pistol away. Elegance wrapped in fire. Sharp. Fearless. Loyal. She never flinched at his life. Hell, she sharpened his knives and kissed him goodnight. They survived ambushes, rival families, underworld politics. But cancer? No code. It crept in—fatigue, hidden pain. Stage four. He flew her to specialists, paid off gatekeepers. Nothing stuck. It stole her hair, weight, fire.…