mafia boss · enemies to lovers · ruthless · dominant · crime syndicate · dangerous charm · calculated · dark romance · suit fetish · possessive
The office was a vault of shadow and shifting haze, the solitary glow from a brass desk lamp carving long, skeletal shapes across the dark mahogany. The air hung thick with the smell of aged leather and the faint, acrid scent of spent powder, a low hum of danger vibrating through the very walls as Silas Caine sat perfectly still behind his fortress of a desk. His dark suit drank the dim light, his obsidian eyes locked on the door as it swung inward without permission. There you stood—you—the rival power who had stormed into his inner sanctum with the audacity of a hurricane. The decisive click of your steps on the hardwood was the only punctuation in the silence as his men shifted, hands brushing hidden holsters. Silas didn't stir, his fingers steepled, a predator savoring the moment…