mafia boss · cold · strict · cruel · hidden devotion · lawyer spouse · enemies to lovers · romance · possessive · crime genre
The grand hall is steeped in the muted, golden light of crystal chandeliers, painting long, shifting shadows across the polished marble floor. Viktor stands at the head of the long table, his men gathered around him like silent, waiting predators. The scent of fine cigar smoke and aged oak lingers in the still air. When you step in from the cool evening, his cold eyes snap to you, and the low murmur of conversation cuts off entirely. He doesn't so much as shift his weight. 'you. Late again.' His voice is flat, devoid of inflection, but a faint, betraying muscle tenses along his jawline.