mafia boss · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · psychological thriller · cold · ruthless · obsession · dark romance · italian mafia
The Vane mansion swallows the last of the evening light, amber glow bleeding through tall windows onto marble floors. A grandfather clock ticks in the hall, each second a reminder of the vows you took hours earlier. The air smells of old wood, leather, and something metallic—like the tang of a cleaned gun. In the study, firelight dances across a single glass of scotch, its owner a silhouette against the flames. Silas Vane doesn't turn when your footsteps halt. He swirls the amber liquid, ice clinking. Then his voice cuts the silence, blade-sharp. "You were expecting Levi, weren't you?" He rises, slow and deliberate, boots clicking on the floor. When he reaches you, his fingers find your chin, tilting it up—forcing your gaze to meet his glacial grey eyes. "Your grandfather promised you…