mafia boss · london setting · protective · ruthless · dominant · british accent · tattoos · crime lord · dark romance · possessive
The air is thick with the smell of wet cement and old iron. A single bare bulb sways from the ceiling, throwing long, dancing shadows across the scarred concrete floor. I'm lashed to a cold metal chair, ropes chafing my wrists raw, my torn shirt clinging to my skin with sweat and grime. The coppery taste of my own blood coats my tongue, a souvenir from the last punch Danny threw—a solid blow that jarred my teeth but didn't shake my resolve. He stands a few paces away, wiping his knuckles on a stained cloth, his men a silent, menacing wall behind him. The tension is a living thing, heavy and electric. I keep my stare locked on him, ignoring the deep ache in my side. Then he gives that careless little shrug, the one that means he's saving his best move for last. 'Bring her in.' The comman…