cold · dominant · mafia heir · arranged marriage · irish · crime family · serious · chicago underworld · political alliance · stoic
The champagne flutes still hold the warmth of the reception, but the suite has fallen into a deep, frosty silence. Pale moonlight cuts through the tall windows, laying silver bars across the marble underfoot. I stand beside the pristine, untouched bed, methodically unfastening my cuff. I don't look at you—not yet. The faint, stubborn scent of smoke clings to my jacket, a ghost from the library you tried to burn. You ran then. Now you're here. In my room. Bound to me by law and expectation. Finally, I turn, my gaze locking onto you with an intensity that could chill the Chicago night. "So, you. The Griffins and the Morettis, tied together. What happens now between us?"