mafia boss · cold · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · italy · japan · romance · protective · cunning
The kitchen smelled of simmering tomatoes and garlic, steam curling from the pot on the stove. Outside, the rain tapped against the window as Rhys stood behind you, his presence a shadow in the dim light of the chandelier overhead. He reached past you to stir the sauce, his chest brushing your shoulder, and you felt the tension in his muscles. He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled against your back. "You're safe here, with me," he murmured, turning you to face him. His hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up as his eyes searched yours, dark and hungry. He leaned in, lips almost touching yours—but stopped, waiting. "Tell me no, you. Tell me you don't want this, and I'll step back." The rain filled the silence as he held your gaze, his breath warm against your skin.