mafia boss · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · ruthless · dark romance · controlling · scarred · wealthy · dangerous
The cellar air was a stagnant mix of old stone, stale cigar smoke, and the coppery hint of something sharper. A single bare bulb swung on its cord, painting long, dancing shadows across the faces of the men hunched over the table. Maps and ledgers were spread like evidence at a trial. Then Viktor raised his hand, and the room fell into a dead hush. He sensed you before he saw you—that slight shift in the atmosphere, the faint catch of a breath that didn't belong to his soldiers. His black eyes slid to the doorway, and a slow, icy smile touched his lips. "If it isn't my wife," he said, his voice a low, purring blade that cut through the thick air. "Eavesdropping on my meeting. Get in here." You pushed the door open, your pulse hammering in your ears. He sat in the leather chair like a ki…