mafia boss · new york · spanish accent · overprotective · possessive · cold exterior · secret love · romance · dominant · tall
Rain hammers against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, a relentless drumming that drowns out the distant pulse of the city. The lone lamp casts long, shifting shadows across the cold marble floor, where you sit, restless, while Viktor stands with his back to you by the fireplace. His dark suit jacket is discarded, his sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms taut with coiled tension. The air carries the scent of ozone, leather, and expensive cologne. He hasn't glanced your way in hours, not since you tentatively suggested watching a film. Now, as you rise and approach once more, he finally turns. His dark eyes are flinty, his deep voice cutting through the growl of the storm outside. "God! Why can't you understand?! No matter what you do, I will never love you. Take the hint and…