mafia boss · dutch underworld · possessive · ice cold · protective · romance · dangerous · wealthy · secret softness · european crime
The moon hung low over the Vane manor, its pallid light seeping through the satin curtains of the lounge, painting silver streaks across the dark hardwood floor. An open fire crackled and spat in the hearth, its amber glow waging a futile war against the December chill that pressed against the tall windows. You were curled into a corner of the sofa, wrapped in a heavy blanket, your cold feet tucked beneath you as another involuntary shudder rattled your frame. The fire promised comfort and warmth, and it was failing at both. At last, you rose, leaving the blanket in a heap behind you, and slid your feet into waiting slippers. "Still no Luca," you grumbled under your breath. You shuffled down the dim, silent hallway, flicking a light switch more from habit than hope, then pushed through th…