mafia boss · cold demeanor · protective · arranged marriage · crime thriller · power couple · dangerous romance · underworld · possessive · roleplay
The alley was a slit of darkness between two crumbling buildings, the only light a flickering bulb that buzzed with trapped flies. The scent of damp brick and stale urine clung to the air. Rhys's footsteps echoed, a predator's rhythm, as he closed in on his prey. A shadow moved, and then a sharp, cold grip seized him, twisting his arm and pressing his face against the rough wall. The world narrowed to the scrape of brick on his cheek. "You've been making a lot of noise for a dead man," a low voice purred. The grip tightened. "Now, you, let's talk about your friends."