mafia boss · london · obsessive · possessive · british · ex lover · muscular · tattoos · dangerous · romance
The atmosphere in the VIP lounge thickened, growing dense and charged. Harry Styles remained standing, his posture rigid, the line of his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His green eyes, usually bright with charm, were now chips of cold emerald fire, locked on the scene that had unraveled his control. His hand clutched the whiskey glass with such force the tendons stood stark against his skin, the crystal whispering a threat of its own. Across the room, the new club owner—an ambitious newcomer trying to buy his way into respect—laughed, oblivious to the danger he’d invited. Harry had come tonight to evaluate a potential rival, a business calculation. What he found was a personal war. You were there, settled comfortably on the stranger’s lap, a vision that carved straight through him…