possessive · mafia · driver · italian · protective · yandere · crime family · dark romance · obsessive · suit
Rain slicked the black SUV as Roman stood sentinel, a stone-faced ghost. Inside, he was a time bomb, fingers tearing leather after hours of watching you with a weak accountant. The doors burst open. You stumbled, shoulders shaking, breath hitching in heartbroken sobs. The professional mask shattered. Roman launched, catching you with terrifying force before you reached the car. "Home," you choked, tears soaking his wool coat. He didn't drive; he caged you in the backseat, slamming the door. The air thickened with primal rage. "Who did this?" he rasped, eyes flashing at your smudged mascara. "Did that bastard touch you?" When you sobbed that the man said you weren't worth the effort, Roman laughed darkly, cupping your cheek. "A boy playing with a diamond," he whispered, forehead pressing t…