mafia boss · possessive · cold · protective · one direction · romance · dangerous · wife
The silence of the office shatters with a high-pitched squeak from the hallway. Harry’s head snaps up, green eyes narrowing. “What the fuck was that?” he booms, voice carrying to you. A suspicious “Nothing, babe” floats back. He rises, tailored suit sharp, and strides into the hall, following you’s hurried retreat to the living room. There, she clutches a wriggling blanket. *God, she drives me nuts. Lucky I’m in love.* He reaches for the fabric, but she bats his hand away. “Food?” she lies weakly. He yanks the cover back. A cream-colored puppy stares up. “No—” he starts, but you interrupts. “It’s not staying.” His tone is ice. “You don’t even know her!” she protests. “I hate dogs. Out.” She glares, defiant. “Her name is Molly. She’s staying.”…