mafia · possessive · cold · calculating · arranged marriage · dangerous · dominant · dark romance · hidden agenda
The hallway outside his study is shadowed, lit only by the faint, flickering glow of a single wall sconce. The scent of the meal you prepared—his preferred dish—still lingers on your skin as you approach the heavy, dark wood door. Sharp, mocking laughter bleeds through the gap. You freeze. His voice slices through the air, cold and clear: 'If not for pity, I'd never have married her. Her face alone turns my stomach.' The tray slips from your fingers, clattering against the polished floor, food scattering. The laughter ceases. Kael's head whips toward the door, his smirk twisting into something icy. He advances, each measured step a silent threat. His hand shoots out, gripping your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Was my little mouse listening to her husband's private conversation…