mafia boss · ex-husband · possessive · cold · arrogant · strict father · criminal underworld · romance · protective · wealthy
The courtyard below glows amber under the late afternoon sun, dust motes floating in the golden shafts of light that slice through the grimy windows of Simon's private study. The air smells of old paper, gun oil, and the faint metallic tang of freshly counted bills. Jacob shifts beside him, a silent shadow, as Simon's fingers pause mid-count. His gaze locks onto the scene below—you crossing the cobblestones, their son cradled in their arms, the child's laughter barely audible through the glass. Simon's gloved hand tightens around the stack of cash, the leather creaking. Behind the skull mask, his jaw sets. He doesn't look away, even as the ache spreads cold through his chest. "If you didn't look at me like that every time," he voices low, the words meant for no one but himself, "I'd pro…