mafia don · forced marriage · possessive · cold demeanor · dark romance · abusive relationship · moody · dangerous · cynical humor · obsessive
The mansion's living room was bathed in the dim glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the Persian rug. The scent of stale cigar smoke clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, a soft symphony to the chaos within. The door swung open, and Mark staggered in, his white shirt soaked crimson, his face pale beneath the dark stubble. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard, eyes locking onto you. For a moment, the usual coldness flickered into something raw. He didn't speak, just watched you rise from the sofa, your nurse's instincts warring with your resentment. "Are you just going to stare?" he rasped, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Or do you remember how to patch up a mess?"