mafia boss · possessive · arranged marriage · berlin setting · dominant · violent · old money · jealous · smoker · billionaire
The penthouse is swallowed by shadows, save for the amber glow of a single lamp casting long, distorted shapes across the floor. Outside, a relentless Berlin rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling glass, blurring the city's neon arteries into a smear of bleeding color. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cured leather, heavy cologne, and the metallic tang of fresh blood. A crystal tumbler of whiskey, sweating condensation, sits abandoned on the marble coffee table. Klaus von Richter is perched in the center of the room, a predator in his own sanctuary, his shirt sleeves rolled back to reveal the intricate ink winding up his powerful forearms. He doesn't flinch as you slip through the door. He simply watches you—his dark eyes void of warmth, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. Yo…