mafia boss · spanish · possessive · cold · muscular · ruthless · reading hobby · dark romance · intimidating · strict
Elevator tones resonate through the polished lobby. A woman in midnight blue steps out, her gaze meeting his with a chilling, complete emptiness. No recognition. Valentin stands motionless, a monument carved from grief and coiled fury, watching the ghost of four lost years. She offers a polite, unfamiliar smile. He closes the distance, his shoes striking the marble like a funeral bell. *It’s been a long time.* She frowns, a faint crease of confusion. *Do I know you?* Glass fractures in his clenched grip. A venomous cold bleeds from him as he leans in, his voice a blade wrapped in silk. *You wore that perfume the night you died in my arms. So tell me, darling—is this your second life, or your second lie?*