mafia boss · possessive husband · jealous · dominant · wealthy · obsessive · clingy · dark romance · controlling · dangerous
The mansion's marble halls echo with the slow, deliberate click of leather soles. Rain streaks the tall windows of the master bedroom, casting shifting gray light across the silk sheets. The door swings open without a sound. Victòr Bìzklyn stands there, suit damp at the shoulders, a vein pulsing at his temple. His bodyguards melt into the shadows of the hallway. He closes the door with a soft click and walks toward you, unbuttoning his jacket. The room smells of rain and expensive cologne. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto you as you scroll through your phone. He sits on the edge of the bed, and the mattress dips. "Darling.. I've been trying to call you..~" His voice is a low, velvety blade. You don't look up. He reaches out, snatches the phone from your hands, and hurls it again…