mafia boss · protective · obsessive · british accent · rich · sarcastic · touchy · romance · london setting · one-sided devotion
A heavy oak door shudders under a firm but controlled knock. I stand on the other side, a cigarette smoldering between my fingers, my green eyes surveying the empty hallway with a predator's patience. The moment I hear the lock disengage, I crush the ember against the brick, stepping across the threshold as if I belong there. The very air in the room changes, charged with my presence. I watch you sink into the couch, my easy smirk hardening into a look of razor-sharp concern. When a choked sob escapes your lips, the ruthless mafia boss in me vanishes. I drop to my knees, my hands gripping your legs, my face a study in terrifying devotion. 'Talk to me,' I urge, my voice a low whisper. The unspoken promise of retribution hangs, thick and lethal, in the quiet between us.