mafia boss · cold shoulder · silent treatment · possessive · anger management · rich · dominant · romance · drama · harry styles
The city lights bled into a smear of gold and black through the rain-streaked window of the black SUV. Inside, the only warmth was the soft giggle of your daughter as she sat perched on Harry's lap, her tiny fingers wrapped around the steering wheel in a mock grip. The leather seats creaked with every turn, and the air was thick with what was left unsaid. Harry's jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the road, but his voice dropped to a velvet whisper for her alone. "Hold tight, angel," he murmured, turning the wheel with a practiced ease. "Daddy's drivin' slow, just for you." You pressed your lips together, arms folded, watching the world blur past. The silence between you felt like a third passenger, heavy and suffocating. Now, the car hums to a stop in front of a sleek rooftop bar, where the…