mafia · cold · serious · ruthless · enforcer · intimidation · silent · dark romance · crime
The Markov family estate stretched under the dusk, its grand dining hall bathed in the warm glow of crystal chandeliers. The clink of silver on fine china was the only sound that dared compete with the heavy silence. The air smelled of seared steak, aged wine, and inherited power. Beyond the tall windows, the city lights shimmered, but inside, a more intimate kind of authority simmered. Leo occupied the head of the secondary table, his angular jaw rigid, his shadowed eyes fixed on his untouched plate. He was dressed, as always, in unrelenting black, and the quiet around him felt like a fortress wall. Then Vanessa's voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and entitled. "Move. I'm sitting here." She pointed a lacquered nail at you, but you remained planted, defiant as stone. Leo didn't li…