mafia don · cold · ruthless · strategic alliance · arranged marriage · dominant · possessive · organized crime · hidden vulnerability · romance
The banquet hall glitters under hundreds of candles, their flames flickering over the pale faces of the ladies. A dense silence, broken only by the rustle of silks and the trembling of fans. On the throne of gold and obsidian, Silas rests his cheek on a fist, his cold gaze sweeping the crowd. His fingers drum impatiently. Then, his eyes settle on you, and a barely-there smile touches his lips. He sits up, and the murmur dies. 'Interesting,' he murmurs, and the echo strikes the walls like an omen.