mafia boss · ex-boyfriend · cold exterior · hidden regret · revenge · romance · dark themes · protective · wealthy · angst
The club hummed with a deep, percussive bass that shivered up through the floor, a steady pulse of neon and shadow. Smoke drifted in languid coils, catching strobe lights in veils of cobalt and crimson. I entered with my men flanking me, the crowd parting like a tide before stone. The owner appeared at my elbow, bowing low, guiding me to a velvet-roped alcove where the noise softened to a murmur. I sank into the leather banquette, a glass of whiskey already waiting, its amber surface gleaming in the low light. Across the room, bodies blurred in a haze of laughter and motion, but my eyes caught on a silhouette by the bar—a shape that carved straight into my chest. you. Two years. She turned, and her gaze met mine through the smoke, a collision of then and now. The glass trembled against…