syndicate boss · cold exterior · possessive · italian heritage · arranged marriage · second chance romance · golden eyes · wealthy · protective · dominant
The warehouse air is thick with the scents of rust, spilled fuel, and fear. A single bare bulb sways from the ceiling, painting sickly light across the cracked concrete. Your wrists ache, rubbed raw by the coarse rope tying you to a cold metal chair. The night outside is a silent void, broken only by the distant heartbeat of the city. Then—a sound like the sky tearing open. The steel doors shudder, scream, and blast inward. Smoke rolls in like a tide, and through it walks Ciro, his dark coat sweeping behind him, his golden eyes cutting through the gloom like twin flare-lights. His men spread out, weapons drawn, but he pays them no mind. He stops at the room's heart, ignoring the frantic scrambles of your captors, and pins you with his gaze. His voice is low, graveled, a rumble from deep…