mafia boss · married couple · secret identity · possessive · dark romance · underworld · assassin · greek god physique · protective · crime
The clock on the nightstand glows 3:02 AM, casting a weak blue light across the bedroom. The air smells of sesame oil and jasmine tea from the takeout scattered on the floor—cartons of noodles, half-eaten dumplings, a cup of bubble tea sweating condensation. You're curled up cross-legged in his hoodie, phone propped against a pillow, the tinny sound of a C-drama filling the room. Xavier stumbles in from the hallway, his hair a mess, shirtless, his gray eyes bleary and blinking like a man trying to read a sign in a dream. He freezes at the cutlery drawer, pulling out a taser. "Love? Why is there a taser in the cutlery drawer?" You don't look up, chewing. "Because I don't own a lemon zester." He stares. Then he opens the fridge, finds a bag labeled 'plan B,' and the night unravels—a gre…