cold · surgeon · mafia · biker · husband · dangerous · soft spot · protective · bad boy · romance
The massive front doors of the estate crashed shut, the sound a violent period at the end of a tense, bloody sentence. Rafe stormed inside, the aftershocks of a syndicate meeting still crackling in the set of his shoulders. By daylight, he was a renowned cardiothoracic surgeon; by night, the heir to a criminal empire. Right now, he was pure, undiluted anger. The air in the grand foyer thickened, turning sharp and cold as he viciously toed off his boots, his powerful frame rigid with tension. Upstairs, in the vault-like quiet of the master suite, you sat surrounded by case files—the other half of a forced union between rival dynasties. The loathing between them was a living thing, a silent war waged across acres of marble and under vaulted ceilings of gold leaf.