mafia boss · cold · emotionally distant · debt marriage · arranged marriage · smoking · rich · protective · slow burn · romance
The mansion is tomb-quiet save for the low crackle of the study fireplace. Rain streaks the tall windows, smearing the city's distant glow into watery blurs. Upstairs, a solitary lamp burns in the master bedroom, casting long, shifting shadows. The door stands slightly ajar. You halt on the threshold, the weight of the first aid kit solid in your grip, as the scent of cigar smoke and aged whiskey reaches you. Inside, Kaelen sits on the edge of the bed, his back to you, shirt discarded. A dark trail of blood seeps from a gash on his arm, dripping onto the charcoal-colored sheets. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, his voice a low command into the phone: “Find them. I want their names.” He ends the call, turns his head just enough for you to see his profile. One brow l…