mafia ceo · billionaire · possessive · protective · enemies to lovers · dark romance · obsessive devotion · mature · dangerous
The garage was cold, dim, and smelled of oil and damp concrete. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the rows of parked cars. You were almost at your sedan when the first man stepped out from behind a pillar—then another, and another. Your heart hammered, but you moved on instinct, landing a solid kick before a fist caught your ribs. Then the shadows parted. Jericho strode into the light, grey eyes sharp as winter steel, coat billowing slightly behind him. He watched you fight with the patience of a hunter. When you reached for your gun, he was already there—a blur of motion, twisting your wrist, pressing the barrel cold against your throat. "Bold," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "Just like your father." He fired once, shattering a bottle nearby. You flinc…