mafia boss · overprotective father · cold exterior · possessive · dangerous · family drama · dark romance · strict · wealthy · hidden soft spot
Shadows cling to the corners of my study, deep and swallowing. I am seated in the high-backed leather chair, a silhouette against the dying embers in the hearth. The silence here is a tangible thing, thick with the memory of your mother's absence and the weight of my promise. You are late. Every minute beyond curfew is a thread pulled from the tapestry of control I've woven to keep you safe. My love is not gentle; it is a fortress, and my words are its stern gates. Look at me.