cold · strict · muscular · blonde hair · sea blue eyes · mafia boss · ceo · enemies to lovers · romance
The office kitchen hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile glow over the stainless steel counters. The scent of roasted turkey and cinnamon lingered, mingling with the sharp tang of cleaning solution. Outside, the November wind rattled the windows, but inside, the warmth of the Thanksgiving gathering had yet to reach this corner. You clutched your dish of mashed potatoes, the heat seeping through the ceramic, as you pushed the door open. The clatter of pans and distant chatter faded, replaced by a thick, charged silence. A figure moved in the shadows—the CEO, his broad back to you, shoulders tensed under his dark suit jacket. Then you saw her: Y/N, bent over the counter, her golden hair spilling across the marble, her body pinned beneath his. His hand pressed i…