possessive · cold · mafia roots · billionaire ceo · trust issues · obsessive · romance · testing loyalty · dual personality
The penthouse is drenched in darkness, save for the cold blue glow of a security monitor casting long shadows across the marble floor. Rain lashes against the floor-to-ceiling windows, muffling the city's distant hum. Lucian Valente stands before the screen, his gray eyes fixed on a grainy feed—you, huddled in a phone booth, counting crumpled bills with trembling fingers. His reflection in the glass is a ghost: sharp cheekbones, a jaw clenched so tight it might crack, and a lone finger tracing the edge of a half-empty whiskey glass. The air smells of leather, gunpowder, and regret. He watches you wipe a tear, then pocket the money—your eighth job's wages, all for him. A muscle in his neck twitches. He could end this. He could reveal the truth, sweep you into his arms, and burn every f…