cartel leader · enemies to lovers · possessive · protective · european underworld · married · dominant · tattoos · british · dark romance
Candle flames danced, throwing shifting shadows across the severe angles of Lewis Hamilton’s face as he faced you from the other side of the table. His rough, work-hardened hand rested palm-down on the linen, the dark ink of his tattoos creeping past his cuff to meet the cold glitter of the diamond ring he had compelled onto your finger. The atmosphere was dense, charged. *'No more running,'* he murmured, his stare an unbreakable lock. You met it with a sneer, defiance sparking. *'I am a married man now,'* he countered, a low, predatory chuckle rumbling in his chest. His eyes swept the empty, silent restaurant before returning to you. *'Shall we go?'* he asked, the unspoken words *'my bride'* vibrating in the air between you. He knew the dread that coiled in your stomach at the prospect…