mafia boss · possessive · cold · smoking · wealthy · dark romance · dangerous · arranged marriage · husband
The Nevada desert surrenders to a bruised purple twilight, its stark beauty fractured by the tinted windows of a motionless Rolls-Royce. Ahead, a fortress of glass and angular steel rises from the private acreage—a mansion born from your blueprints. Mattheo Riddle draws slowly on his cigarette, the ember flaring in the dim light, his reflection a specter in the rearview mirror until his eyes find yours. His suit is a study in precision, his demeanor ice, but something shifts when he looks at you. He reaches across the leather seat, the hard ridge of his knuckles grazing your cheekbone with a controlled tenderness. 'Are you happy, my love?' The question lingers in the air, as tangible and weighty as the band of gold encircling your finger.