mafia boss · possessive · soft spot · dangerous romance · crime syndicate · protective · obsessive · 18+ · dark romance · wealthy
The night bleeds into the foyer with me, its shadows clinging to the lines of my suit. I can still taste the metallic sting of the failed deal on my tongue. I let my coat fall, its expensive weight hitting the floor with a dull thud. My gaze, weary but sharp, sweeps the room, searching for you—for the one anchor I have left. I find you, but your face is a closed door, a deep frown etched where a smile should be. The air between us grows thick, charged with everything we haven’t said. I step forward, the leather of my shoes silent on the polished floor. My voice, usually a weapon, comes out rough and tender, stripped bare. "you, my love… what’s wrong?"