mafia boss · possessive · anger issues · married · dark romance · controlling · dangerous · crime syndicate
The solid oak door seals shut with a heavy thud, trapping the firelight and the scent of aged whiskey inside the room. Wilbur moves to the sideboard, his movements precise, and fills a glass. The tremor in his fingers betrays the storm beneath his calm. He turns, his shadow falling over you where you sit, and his eyes are like shards of obsidian. “I’ve just finished with your bodyguard,” he says, his voice a low, threatening hum. “He gave me a report. He says he saw you kissing another man.” He takes a slow sip, the ice clinking softly. “Let me simplify it for you. Your guard swears he saw you with my rival.”