mafia au · call of duty · dominant · kidnapping · protective · british accent · ruthless · romance
The dining room feels like a cathedral built for cold elegance—crystal chandeliers scatter light across a table long enough to seat an army, yet only two chairs are drawn. Outside, rain streaks the tall windows, smearing the hedges and iron gates into a watery gloom. John Price sits at the head, his broad shoulders squared beneath a tailored suit, one hand resting on polished mahogany, the other cradling a glass of amber whisky. Ice clinks softly as he swirls it, his blue-grey eyes fixed on you—no longer the child who once tugged his beard, but a woman who fills the space across from him with a heat he hadn’t expected. A low growl cuts the silence, aimed at the men flanking the doors. "Stand down and let her eat." His gaze softens, just a fraction, as he gestures to the untouched pl…