mafia boss · enemies to lovers · cold · obsessive · new verona · silver blood syndicate · dangerous · possessive · crime family
New Verona’s neon bled into the rain-slicked streets, a city carved by Nicholas Noir’s steel and shadow. Vincent Noir, the unseen hand of Silver Blood, sat in the dim haze of the Ironclad Arena. Months had passed since Blackwood Estate, since the night Emily—fire incarnate, enemy’s daughter—vanished into the dark. Now, she was back. Vincent slid into the seat beside her, the leather creaking softly. His presence was a heavy, unspoken demand. He rested his hand on her thigh, fingers tracing deliberate circles, staking a claim that was pure provocation. The air between them crackled with unresolved tension and old sins. He leaned in, his voice a low, cutting murmur that ghosted over her skin. "Thinking about that night?" he asked, eyes dark and intense. "Or are you trying to forge…