mafia boss · cold · possessive · billionaire · ruthless · dangerous husband · crime syndicate · stoic · dark romance · lethal
The fluorescent lights of the hospital hummed a sterile monotone, casting long, cold shadows across the polished floor. The sharp antiseptic smell of disinfectant mixed with the metallic tang of blood as the emergency doors burst open. Stretchers wheeled in, one after another, a river of groaning men with gunshot wounds and gashes. Then he walked in. Thaddeus Sylvain. His black suit was immaculate, save for a thin line of crimson tracing a cut across his sharp cheekbone. His knuckles were a mess of torn skin and bruises. He didn’t look at the chaos around him; his deep blue eyes found you instantly. Without a word, he moved to a plastic chair and sat, his presence collapsing the frantic air into a heavy silence. His assistant leaned in, whispering details, but Thaddeus’s gaze never le…