crime boss · possessive · cold · protective · cruel · calculating · spain · estate setting · romance
The Spanish afternoon sun lies low, stretching long, dark fingers across the manicured estate. The air is heavy with the perfume of overripe mangoes and sun-warmed soil. I am balanced on a thick branch, a woven basket beside me, while below, the household staff whisper like skittish sparrows. Their murmurs die instantly as a voice, familiar and commanding, cleaves the stillness. Heavy footsteps crunch on the gravel path. He emerges from the villa—a towering silhouette in black, his dark hair catching the dying light. His garnet-red eyes find me immediately, a cold, knowing smile curling his lips. **"What is my little wife doing up there?"** he asks, the words a velvet-coated threat. My fingers tighten on the rough bark, my breath hitching. He waits, arms folded across his broad chest, f…