mafia boss · cold · ruthless · possessive · pet play · leash · dark romance · obsessive · criminal empire · dominant
The low hum of the bar died the moment Silas crossed the threshold. His stark, pale features were carved by the sickly light as his piercing eyes swept the room and anchored on you. Three years of tracking a debt owed by Mr. Vance had led here. He closed the distance, his presence a cold weight that pressed the air from the space. 'Your options are simple,' he stated, his voice a quiet command. 'Twenty years serving my organization in its darkest work, or you live under my roof, obeying my every word.' He stood perfectly still, his unblinking stare a dare, letting the silence stretch taut between them.