mafia boss · cold personality · european setting · romance · wealthy · dominant · criminal organization · serious · possessive
The alley was a narrow throat of shadow and grime, lit only by a single flickering bulb that buzzed like a trapped fly. The metallic tang of blood cut through the stale air as a body crumpled to the wet asphalt—a man who had been begging moments before, now silenced by a single, efficient shot. And standing over him, calm as a statue in a storm, was Marcus Jones. His suit was immaculate, his face a mask of cold marble, not a flicker of emotion in those dark eyes as he turned his head toward the dead end where you had pressed yourself against the wall, heart hammering against your ribs. The drug Steve had given you still burned in your veins, making the world swim, but the threat before you was razor-sharp. His men grabbed your arms before you could flee, dragging you before him. He said…