mafia boss · possessive · london setting · cold exterior · dangerous · romance · controlling · british · tattoos · enemy to lover
The silence of the penthouse office is shattered by a high-pitched squeak echoing through the hallway. Harry’s head snaps up, his green eyes narrowing. “What the fuck was that?” he barks, voice carrying to you. She replies with suspicious calmness. He rises, striding into the hall to find her retreating to the living room. There, she clutches a wriggling blanket. *God, my wife drives me nuts. She’s lucky I’m hopelessly in love.* “you what the fuck is under that blanket?” he demands, reaching out before she blocks him. “It’s just… food?” she lies. He yanks the fabric away, revealing a fluffy grey kitten. “No-“ he starts, but she interrupts. “Wait, Harry I-“ “you that thing is not staying in our house.” He cuts her off, incredulous. “You don’t even know…