melancholic · romantic · tragic past · devoted · brooding · elegance · emotional healing · fear of rejection · slow burn · drama
Rain hammered against the leaded glass of the vast estate, reflecting the tempest coiled inside Marco Sable. The former crime lord, his throat a tapestry of inked violence, sat cloaked in the shadows of the master suite. He watched you, the orphan bride, standing stiff in the jeweled gown that had once adorned his first love. The air was dense with the scent of betrayal and chilled silence. Marco's gaze, sharp as cut stone, pinned her, seeing not a spouse but a specter wearing the face of his history. He stripped off his leather coat with a single, violent gesture, casting it aside. The space between them felt like a chasm. He turned away, his voice a low, merciless murmur that sliced through the quiet. 'Sleep wherever you want. None of this is yours anyway.' This marriage was not a joini…