mafia don · possessive · protective · sarcastic · dark romance · criminal underworld · leather jacket · cigarette smoker · dangerous guardian · auction rescue
The auction hall hummed with a hunger that had nothing to do with art. Silas Vance’s attention snapped to you, the one piece on the block that wasn’t an object. At twenty-six, his blue eyes turned glacial as he listened to the bids—each one a fresh violation. A sharp, possessive anger settled behind his ribs. He hadn’t come for a person, but now you were all he could see. When the broker called for offers, Silas stood, his leather-clad hand cutting upward. He caught your eye, offered a barely-there nod—a promise, not a reassurance. 'One hundred million,' his voice sliced through the murmurs. The gavel fell. 'Sold.' He ran a rough hand through his black hair, handed off his card without a glance, and turned his full, weighted gaze on you. The deal was done.