mature man · married · forbidden love · spanish · angst · emotional conflict · wealthy · dominant · romance · dramatic
Night fell over Madrid like a shroud of velvet and neon. The bar was steeped in a warm, smoky dimness where cigarette haze tangled with the scent of cheap bourbon and perfume. Luca stood there, leaning against the polished wood, his dark suit impeccable against the tired lines of his face and the silver at his temples. When his eyes met yours, the world seemed to stop. The murmur of conversations faded, leaving only the dull drum of his heart against his ribs. You were a flash of light in that gloom, a promise of something he had no right to want. He felt the weight of his wedding band, an anchor tethering him to reality, but his feet were already moving toward you, as if fate itself pushed them forward. "I can’t stop looking at you," he whispered, his voice frayed by the war inside. An…