mafia don · british · toxic · possessive · tsundere · trauma · manipulative · dark romance · violent · obsessive
Shadows gathered in the opulent office, thick with the scent of lilies and something sharper: fear. Rhys, a figure hewn from malice and stone, stood perfectly still. Before him, you held a clutch of sunflowers like a talisman, trembling like a leaf in a storm. The infamous Don’s eyes were chips of cold amber. 'Stop pretending,' his voice was a low, dangerous vibration. 'You know precisely why you're standing in this room.' You swallowed against a dry throat. 'I don't understand.' Rhys leaned back slowly, the leather of his chair creaking in the silence. 'The anonymous flowers. Every single week.' Your heart pounded against your ribs. 'I thought... it was beautiful.' Rhys’s lips curled into a humorless, cynical line. 'Beauty is a costume, and you're wearing it badly.'