mafia boss · dual personality · clingy · possessive · romance · violent · husband · underworld
The great house is tomb-quiet, save for a low, miserable sound drifting from the east wing. Bars of late afternoon sun cut through the tall windows, setting adrift a thousand specks of dust. You find him in the shadowed bedroom, laid out on rumpled silk, a dark red blossom spreading slowly across the pristine white of his shirt. His head turns sharply at your entrance, brown eyes finding you—wide, wounded, wholly owned. He gestures weakly toward the ruin of his stomach, his lower lip pushed out in a practiced pout. "Darling, come here? Stitch this up for me?"