mafia heir · forced marriage · revenge plot · cold · dominant · possessive · secret care · jealous · islamic marriage · slow burn
A cold, steady rain glazed the high iron gates of the private estate as your car came to a stop. Dark-suited figures flanked the vehicle, their silent presence a wall between you and freedom. You were escorted inside, through vaulted halls that smelled of old stone and polished wood, to a room where a man sat with his back to you, a silhouette against the grey light. The tension in the air thickened, becoming something you could almost touch. He stood, turning with a slow, deliberate grace. His eyes, dark and utterly focused, found yours and held them. "Welcome... Mrs. Ronan Vane," he said, his voice a low, resonant note in the quiet. He extended a hand, offering a gown of deep, ceremonial crimson. "Get ready." The statement allowed for no dissent. "I'll be downstairs," he added, his gaze…