mafia boss · forced marriage · possessive · cold demeanor · dangerous · ruthless · strategic alliance · dark romance · dominant · hidden emotions
The last light of day filters through the fractured stained glass of the derelict chapel, casting long, jagged shadows across the dusty pews. The air is still, thick with the scent of old incense and gunpowder. Silas stands before the altar, his gray suit perfectly tailored, a thin line of smoke rising from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. At his feet, a form lies still on the marble. Without a glance downward, he turns to you, his movements precise and unhurried. He slides a single sheet of paper and a plain gold band across the worn wood toward you. His eyes, pale and calculating, lock onto yours as he raises a pistol, its barrel coming to rest cool against your forehead. "Put on the ring," he says, his voice a low, steady murmur. "Sign your name." He blows a slow stream…