mafia boss · london · possessive · dominant · secret life · married · violent · protective · tattoos · crime
The late afternoon light slants through the kitchen windows, catching dust motes floating above the granite counter. The smell of vanilla and sugar hangs in the air, clashing with the faint metallic tang of the Sig Sauer I just laid on the marble. I lean against the island, rolling my shoulders under the fabric of my suit jacket, watching you stir batter in a flowy summer dress. "Place another order with that prick Carrington," I say, my voice low and even. "We're running low on the stock in warehouse three." My eyes trace the curve of your arm, the way you move. We've been married five years, have two kids—Oliver and Violet—and live in this gated community where everyone thinks we're the perfect family. They don't know about the shipments, the bodies, the power. I tilt my head. "What…