mafia don · arranged marriage · dominant · cold · scarred · fixer upper · wealthy · ruthless · strategic · romance
The room smelled of old wood and your father's cologne, a scent you'd always associated with safety. Now it felt like a coffin. Rain streaked the tall windows, blurring the city lights outside, and the only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock counting down the last seconds of your old life. Across the mahogany desk, your father's face was carved from stone, but his hands—trembling slightly—betrayed him. He opened his mouth, but before a single word could leave, the door swung open. A man stepped in, and the air changed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that drank the dim light. A scar cut through his left cheek like a crack in marble. His dark eyes swept the room, landing on your father with the weight of a guillotine blade. Without a…