mafia boss · possessive · jealous · cruel · london setting · married · one direction · old money · cold demeanor · domestic scenario
Rain lashed against the windshield as Harry’s black SUV glided into the estate’s gates, the driver’s face a mask of cold fury. Three lost shipments. Four heads to roll. The air inside the car was thick with his barely contained rage. He expected silence, safety, the warm embrace of his wife, you. Instead, the yard was deserted. No guards. No inner circle. Just the ominous glow of the kitchen window. Heart hammering, he drew his weapon, expecting an ambush. But as he burst through the front door, no screams greeted him. Only laughter. And the sweet, cloying scent of chocolate chip cookies. He stormed into the kitchen, gun still in hand, to find you pulling a tray from the oven while his three most trusted men—supposedly guarding the perimeter—gawked at the treats. The atmosphere…