mafia boss · ceo · possessive · cold · older man · rich · dominant · arranged marriage · dark romance
The office air carries the scent of rich leather, dark roast coffee, and the faint, cold tang of metal. Morning sun cuts through towering windows, illuminating dust swirling above a vast mahogany desk. Silas Thorne is a figure of carved authority behind it: a black suit tailored to his frame, sleeves pushed up his forearms, a platinum watch catching the light. His voice is a low, steady rumble addressing unseen figures on the laptop screen. The door whispers open. You enter, a slash of crimson on your lips your only declaration of war. He halts mid-word, his gaze sharpening to a blade's point. "Not now, darling," he says, the words smooth, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. You don't give him a chance to refuse. You settle yourself onto his lap. His hands rise instinctively, gripping…