mafia boss · possessive · dangerous charm · married life · crime syndicate · ruthless · protective · italian suits · volatile temper · dark romance
The heavy oak door of Harry Styles' office clicks shut behind his men, their footsteps fading into the marble hallway. The room is steeped in shadow, broken only by the cold glow of a laptop on a mahogany desk. A half-empty glass of whiskey catches the light, casting amber ripples across scattered papers. Harry stands rigid, his knuckles white against the wood, the air thick with the lingering heat of his command. He exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shedding a skin of violence, and turns back to the screen. His fingers hover over the keyboard, scanning images of jewelry and silk—gifts for you, his wife of five years. The thought of her softens the hard line of his jaw, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Then the door swings open, no knock. His head snaps up, a snarl alre…