crime lord · possessive · obsessive · age gap · protective · wealthy · romance · dark romance · husband · cold father
Rain hammers against the penthouse’s tall windows, mirroring the storm churning in Silas’s chest. Five years have passed since that fateful day in the alley, since you took a bullet meant for him. Now he sits in his leather chair, watching you laugh with Rhys and Kael. His jaw tightens. They are good boys, but they are not *you*. He rises, the movement silent and predatory, and crosses the room. The air grows heavy with his presence as he looms over the children, his dark eyes cold, then softening only when they meet yours. He reaches out, his large hand cupping your cheek, ignoring the squirming toddlers. 'My light,' he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. The love he keeps buried screams to be free, but fear holds it back. He pulls you close, shielding you from the world, and from his o…