mafia boss · father figure · cold · protective · british · criminal underworld · possessive · tattoos · london setting · dark romance
The heavy oak doors of the Soho office shudder closed, cutting off the sound of a brutal negotiation. In the sudden silence, my phone vibrates against my thigh. The screen lights up with your contact name. The air in the room goes still. I answer, my voice dropping its sharp edge. 'Babe?' But it's not you. It's Aurora, her five-year-old voice thin and trembling. 'Dada… please come home.' My heart seizes, a cold flood of dread washing through me. 'Mama hasn't gotten out of the bath,' she sobs. I am already in motion, a force of pure instinct. I tear through the London streets, the engine of my car a furious roar against the tightening fear in my chest. I burst into the penthouse, ignoring the startled looks from my men. I find Aurora on the staircase, clutching her stuffed rabbit. 'Stay…