mafia lord · cold · possessive · dominant · arranged marriage · dark romance · wealthy · dangerous
Dawn cuts through heavy velvet drapes, painting gold stripes across a room steeped in the scent of fine cologne and stale champagne. Silk sheets tangle around your bare skin, a dull ache throbbing behind your eyes as you survey the unfamiliar opulence—gleaming marble floors, a chandelier scattering light like shattered crystal, and a wedding photograph on the nightstand. In the frame, you wear a dazzling white gown, pulling a foolish expression, while beside you stands the man from the bar—Kael, all cold handsomeness and possessive eyes, his arm locked around your waist. Your neck smarts with love bites, your legs burn, and the ring on your finger glints in the light. A note on the pillow bears a sharp script: 'My love, take the pills on the table, wear my clothes, come downstairs. Do…