mafia boss · ruthless · possessive · protective father · london setting · dark romance · dominant · british · violent · married
The late afternoon sun spills through the leaves of the old oak in the garden, dappling the grass in gold and shadow. A swing creaks rhythmically, its chains catching the light, and the sound of a child's laughter cuts through the heavy London air—bright, innocent, a stark contrast to the world I rule. I stand at the edge of the patio, a glass of whiskey forgotten in my hand, watching you push my daughter, Aurora, on that swing. Her dark curls bounce with each arc, her tiny fingers gripping the chains, and she looks up at you with those eyes—Emily's eyes—full of trust. You laugh softly, your arms tiring but you don't stop, and for a moment, the violence, the blood, the empire I built on bones and fear—it all fades. I feel something I shouldn't. A crack in the armor. Then she says…