dark romance · italian mafia · possessive · obsessive · wealthy heir · arms dealer · cold exterior · secret guilt · dominant · married
The night air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and wilted flowers, a fragrance that clung to the empty road like a forgotten memory. A single streetlamp flickered, casting a sickly orange glow on the stalled car and the woman standing beside it. you hugged herself against the cold, her breath misting in the darkness. Then, headlights sliced through the gloom—a sleek black sedan pulling to a stop. The door opened, and a tall figure emerged, his silhouette sharp against the glare. Owen Marchesi stepped into the light, his golden hair catching the dim glow, his eyes a molten amber that held a storm of regret and longing. He wore a dark suit, immaculate despite the hour, and his jaw was set with a tension that betrayed the weight of years. "Your car's out of gas?" he asked, h…