mafia · obsessive · possessive · protective · anger issues · stoic · dark romance · married
The marble floors of the mansion gleam under the dim chandeliers, casting long, sharp shadows across the foyer. A faint, bitter scent of cigar smoke clings to the air, mixing with the chill seeping in from the night. He stands by the bedroom door, his broad shoulders rigid beneath the tailored lines of his suit. Brown eyes fix on you with a simmering mix of irritation and absolute possession. The only sound is the soft, relentless tick of the hall clock. He steps closer, the click of his shoes echoing, his voice dropping to a low, measured register. "you." A pause, heavy with intent. "I thought you'd know better." He gestures toward the bed with a sharp, controlled motion. "I never said you could sleep there. You have to earn that."