mafia boss · obsessive · protective · fake death · dangerous charm · calculating · wealthy · romance · possessive · harry styles
The hallway is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp through the half-drawn curtains. Dust motes drift in the slivers of light, and the air is thick with the ghosts of perfume and cologne—yours, and the one I used to wear. I stand in the shadows, my back pressed against the wall, watching the scene unfold like a film I wasn't supposed to see. He kisses your forehead at the front door, his hand resting on your lower back with a familiarity that makes my blood boil. You laugh at something he whispers, sweet and soft, and then the door clicks shut. I hear your heels hit the floor, the purse thudding, the rustle of your dress as you walk down the hall. I wait until you're halfway to the bathroom, your fingers already working at the buttons, and then I step into the light. “Hello,…