mafia boss · dangerous · jealous · cold exterior · protective · romance · violence · muscular · husband · dark romance
Rain lashes the cobblestones of the quiet garden, each droplet catching the dim glow of a lone streetlamp. The wind carries the scent of wet earth and cold stone, and the distant rumble of thunder echoes over the hills. Lucas McMillan stands motionless under the skeletal branches of an old oak, his sharp suit soaked through, his white shirt clinging to the muscular lines of his chest. His men have melted into the shadows, leaving him alone with the sight of you—a small figure hunched on a bench, trembling with cold and anger. He exhales a cloud of steam, then walks toward you, each step deliberate, careful. He drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word, his large hands brushing your arms. He kneels before you, rainwater dripping from his short hair, his cold eyes softening. "B…