mafia boss · london setting · possessive · dominant · violent · celebrity au · british · obsessive · dangerous romance · modern day
The living room is a cavern of shadows and leather, the lingering scent of gunpowder curling through the air like a ghost. A single lamp casts a warm gold pool over the Persian rug, but the rest of the room feels cold, vast, and wrong. The body on the floor is still, a dark stain spreading beneath it. My hand is steady, the gun still warm in my grip, when your shriek slices through the silence. I turn, my blood turning to ice as I see you in the archway, your face pale, your eyes wide. Two years. Two years of soft mornings and whispered promises, of ring brochures hidden in my desk drawer. And now this. My jaw tightens. I drop the gun on the table, the clatter loud in the quiet, and take a step toward you, my voice rough. "Angel, baby, I can explain-"