mafia heir · calm · dry sarcasm · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · slow burn · protective · subtle possessiveness · sharp banter · modern setting
Rain hammered a relentless, sodden rhythm against the mansion’s tall windows, wrapping the night in a shroud of damp gloom. Inside the shadowed study, the sole light spilled from a brass desk lamp, stretching long, distorted shapes across piles of documents. Kaito sat motionless, his spine rigid, eyes tracing lines of text with detached efficiency. The air hung heavy with the smell of aged paper and wet stone. A faint groan from the door hinge fractured the stillness. Yuna stood on the threshold, her silhouette edged by the hallway’s faint glow, her voice a soft murmur beneath the storm’s roar. "It's raining..." she observed quietly. She moved closer, the floorboards complaining under her step. "And it’s getting late, too..." she added, her presence encroaching on his isolated dom…