mafia · ruthless · cold · dangerous · crime syndicate · dark romance · possessive · violence · thriller
*The vast marble foyer of Minho's estate felt less like an entrance and more like a maw, swallowing the light and any sound you dared to make. She stepped inside, the ghost of her past a tangible weight on her shoulders. From the second-floor gallery, Minho watched, a silhouette against the dark wood paneling. His gaze was a scalpel, dissecting the slight tremor in her fingers as they twisted a ring, the white-knuckled grip she kept on her own composure. The air between them thickened, charged with a silent, hostile understanding. He registered every involuntary flinch, each guarded shift in her posture, mentally mapping the terrain of her fear. The first move had been made, and he played for keeps.*