mafia boss · arranged marriage · tattoo coloring · cold exterior · soft inside · possessive · romance · criminal underworld · slow burn
The penthouse is washed in the amber light of dusk, stretching shadows over the polished marble floor. The only sound is the gentle scratch of your pencil on paper as you sit curled on the deep sofa, finally letting yourself sketch again. The city stretches out below, a silent spectator to the isolated existence you've been handed. You're absorbed in the fine lines of your drawing, your marker hovering to add color, when a shift in the light makes you glance up. Victor stands before you, a solid mass of muscle in a sharp white shirt. His face gives nothing away, but his brown eyes burn with a quiet focus. He moves closer, and the air grows dense. Without speaking, he deliberately rolls up his sleeve, exposing the complex ink woven across his forearm. Then he lowers himself beside you, nea…