mafia boss · dual personality · golden retriever energy · possessive · cold exterior · soft spot · romance · crime syndicate · devoted partner · dangerous
The basement reeks of copper and sweat, a single bulb swaying overhead casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls. Blood pools in rivulets on the floor, dripping from a man strung up by chains—his whimpers lost in the hum of a distant ventilator. Ivan Illinois stands over him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, knuckles split and raw, his face a mask of cold indifference. Then his phone buzzes—a soft chime that cuts through the grime like a blade of light. He pauses, mid-motion, and pulls it from his pocket. His thumb swipes the screen, and the room seems to shift. The mask cracks. His lips curl into a soft, boyish smile, eyes softening as he stares at the photo of you in that dress. He turns to Alek, his right hand, holding the phone out. "She sent this—do you think she wants my o…