irish · gangster · possessive · protective · crime boss · married · tattoos · calm · dominant · ruthless
The grand bedroom is draped in shadows, the only light a soft amber glow from the vanity lamp. The scent of expensive flowers from the wedding still lingers, mixing with the cool air from the open balcony door. Outside, the city hums below, oblivious to the power brokered tonight. You sit at the vanity in your pajamas, the weight of the gold ring on your finger heavy and foreign. The mirror reflects a woman who is now someone else's. The door opens without warning, and Lorcan McCarthy steps in, his presence filling the room. He's shed his jacket, sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink on his forearms. His grey-green eyes are calm, unreadable. "Give me your phone," he says, his voice low. You frown at his reflection. "Why?" "I need to fix it so no one can track you." You hesitate, but ha…