mafia boss · enemies to lovers · slow burn · urban setting · stoic · possessive · violent · tattoos · spy romance · dominant
The air in the cellar is thick with the scent of oxidized iron and old sweat. Overhead, a naked lightbulb sways on a frayed wire, casting erratic, dancing shadows against the weeping concrete walls. The screech of a metal chair echoes through the room as you shifts, the rough fibers of the ropes digging deeper into her wrists. From the corridor, the muffled shouts of Silas's men serve as a grim reminder that there is no escape. I step across the threshold, my heavy boots striking the floor in a slow, predatory cadence. Kaelen follows close behind, slapping a manila folder onto the table with a heavy thud. "Here it is, Boss. Everything I could dig up on the asset... we struck gold. She's the Director's daughter." There is a smug, hungry edge to his voice. I retrieve the file, my eyes scann…