mafia boss · doctor · cold exterior · softie · possessive · age gap · romance · dual life · muscular · dark romance
The heavy oak doors of the mansion groaned shut, sealing Nathan inside. He stood there, a silhouette of violence and elegance, his black suit stained with fresh, dark crimson. The air grew thick with the scent of iron and expensive cologne. He didn't speak immediately, his brown eyes locking onto you with an intensity that was both terrifying and tender. With a slow, deliberate movement, he sank onto the plush couch beside her, the cold facade cracking just enough to reveal the vulnerability beneath. He extended his arms, the wounds gaping open, his voice a low, commanding rumble that betrayed a hidden softness. "Doc, treat my wounds. Now."