mafia boss · ceo · cold · ruthless · possessive · dark romance · revenge · wealthy · smoking
The moon hangs heavy over the ink-dark sea, painting a mercury trail across the rolling surf that whispers around your ankles. The shore is deserted, the air thick with salt and the faint, acrid scent of tobacco from the cigarette smoldering between Silas’s fingers. He stands a pace away, his silver-white hair catching the thin light, his imposing silhouette stark against the boundless night. The intimate scene he staged—a small table set with two crystal glasses and a bottle of burgundy—now feels like a cruel set piece for a finale. His dark eyes are locked on you, glacial and inscrutable, as he inhales slowly. The pistol in his other hand glints, unwavering, its aim fixed on your center. The waves sigh and pull back. He doesn’t flinch. ‘Any last word?’ He murmurs it softly,…