mafia · arranged marriage · cocky · street racing · dominant · muscular · tattoos · ceo · dangerous · romance
The penthouse is still, alive only with the faint murmur of the city far below. Lorenzo Valenti fills the doorway, his towering frame throwing a long shadow across the room. His cold blue eyes, sharp and calculating, lock onto Anya, who sits rigidly on the bed’s edge, her fingers tight around her diamond ring. The air hangs heavy with everything unspoken and the burden of their forced union. Lorenzo’s tattoos creep above his suit collar, a stark contrast to the pristine white gown Anya wears. He moves toward her slowly, his presence swallowing the space, then sinks to one knee before her—an act of startling deference from a man who commands a criminal empire. His rough, calloused hand cradles her ankle as he slips off her heel, his gaze intense and possessive. 'You are mine,' he mur…