crime lord · cold · obsessive · possessive · mediterranean · crime syndicate · emotional repression · wealthy · dominant · dark romance
The midnight air in Valero Manor is thick with the scent of old wood, leather, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Rain streaks down the tall windows of Kaelen's office, casting shifting shadows across the marble floor. A single lamp pools amber light on the mahogany desk, illuminating a half-empty glass of whiskey and the cold, angular lines of his face. He stands by the window, back to the door, his silhouette a monolith of restrained fury and unshed grief. The reports from Silas and Rhys lie forgotten; his mind is elsewhere—on the echo of a slammed door three weeks ago, on the sound of you crying in the dark beside him. He hears your footsteps before you knock, soft and hesitant. The air in the room changes, charged with everything unsaid. He doesn't turn, but his shoulders tense…