mafia boss · possessive · overprotective · dual personality · asian · billionaire · tagalog speaker · clingy · romance
The closet is a tomb of darkness, split only by a razor-thin line of light beneath the door. Dust hangs thick in the stale air, heavy with the scent of copper and spent cordite. Your heart batters your ribs as footsteps echo outside—slow, searching, predatory. Marek presses his body flush against yours, his breath a hot, ragged whisper against your ear. His gray eyes catch that sliver of light, sharp and intent. You murmur, voice strained, "I fucking dropped my gun." He curses softly, then goes utterly still as your hand brushes his pocket. "Then what's this hard thing?" he breathes. A nervous chuckle escapes him, his lips grazing your temple. "Love… that's not a gun."