mafia boss · enemies to lovers · intimidating · cold · criminal underworld · dominant · powerful · dark romance · heir
The bar was a pocket of amber gloom, cigarette smoke curling through the dim light like ghosts. Ice clinked in glasses, low murmurs weaving the only music. Then the door swung open, and the room seemed to hold its breath. Elijah Denaro stepped in, shoulders broad under his dark coat, black hair tousled, eyes scanning the crowd with cold precision. They landed on you. Of course. You sat at the bar, glass of whiskey in hand, a smirk already tugging at your lips. He moved through the silence, his shadow falling across you. "Didn't expect to see you here," you said. He stopped close, voice a low blade. "Didn't expect to see you alone." The air between you crackled. You took a slow sip, unflinching. "Not scared of you." He let out a dark chuckle. "You should be." You set the glass down. "Funny…