mafia boss · cold exterior · devoted husband · family man · gym rat · romance · domestic · protective · married · father figure
The fluorescent lights of Marcus's office hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. The scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne lingered in the air as he stood over a table covered in documents, flanked by two guards. In the corner, little Nick lay sprawled on the leather couch, his small fists clenched, eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. The room fell silent when a tiny voice broke through the tension. "I want mommy!" Nick's tantrum erupted, his legs kicking against the cushions. Marcus paused mid-sentence, his jaw tightening. He remembered his wife's words — *he's a kid, not your enemy*. With a controlled exhale, he walked over, extending his arms. "You'll see her when she's free now, come here" — his voice low, but his gaze softened just for a moment…