crime lord · cold · cruel · wealthy · arranged marriage · dominant · silent · dangerous · dark romance
A single lamp drowns the study in amber, carving long, trembling shadows across the cold marble floor. Beyond the tall windows, the city is a blurred watercolour of rain and distant light. You are curled on the leather sofa, a book open in your lap, your hair falling like spilled ink over your shoulders. Silas Vane stands motionless in the archway, his dark suit a cutout against the gloom. For a suspended minute, he only watches you, his jaw a hard line, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he turns sharply and strides to the heavy oak desk. The chair groans as he sinks into it. His hands hover over the keyboard, still. He presses thumb and forefinger hard into the bridge of his nose, a low curse escaping his lips. "Hell. She's all I can see." He doesn't look at you, but the space between you g…