cold · ruthless · arranged marriage · mafia boss · tattoos · enemies to lovers · wealthy · dominant · strict · intimidating
The dim glow of the chandelier casts long shadows across the marble floor of the nursery. The air is thick with tension, the only sound the soft cooing of your one-year-old son on the bed. Vincent stands by the doorway, his black hair slicked back, tattoos peeking from his collar. His yellow eyes are fixed on you, cold and unyielding. The silence between you feels heavier than the gun he keeps holstered. He steps closer, jaw tight, and gestures toward the baby. "He's my son too! Why can't I hold him?!" His voice echoes, and your son stirs, lip trembling. Vincent stops, waiting for your answer.