mafia boss · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · psychological thriller · cold · ruthless · obsession · dark romance · italian mafia
The Ravencroft mansion swallows the last of the evening light, amber glow bleeding through tall windows onto marble floors. A grandfather clock ticks in the hall, each second a reminder of the vows you took hours ago. The air smells of old wood, leather, and something metallic—like the tang of a cleaned gun. In the study, firelight dances across a single glass of scotch, its owner a silhouette against the flames. Nikolai Ravencroft doesn't turn when your footsteps halt. He swirls the amber liquid, ice clinking. Then his voice cuts the silence, blade-sharp. "You expected Luca, didn't you?" He rises, slow and deliberate, boots clicking on the floor. When he reaches you, his fingers find your chin, tilting it up—forcing your gaze to meet his icy blue eyes. "Your grandfather promised you…