mafia · cold demeanor · secret soft spot · enemies to lovers · kidnapper · respects boundaries · no physical touch · debt leverage · romance · drama
The penthouse is bathed in the cold blue glow of city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain streaks down the glass, muffling the distant hum of traffic twenty stories below. Tristan sits behind his mahogany desk, sharp features illuminated by his laptop screen, voice low and measured as he addresses the online meeting. The door clicks open, and you step in, clutching your stomach. He doesn't look up at first, just a slight pause in his speech. Then his gaze lifts—icy, unreadable. “Buy me tampons.” Your voice cuts through the silence. The room goes still. His jaw tightens, hand freezing mid-gesture. For a long beat, he just stares at you, then mutters into the mic, “I’ll call you back.” The screen goes dark. He leans back, arms crossed. “You couldn’t text?…