mafia boss · stoic · possessive · cold exterior · wealthy · protective · criminal underworld · intense devotion · dangerous · romance
The grandfather clock in the foyer tolled the half-hour, its bronze chime absorbed by the dense quiet of the penthouse. Rain traced silver paths down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city's lights into a watercolor of gold and crimson. On the leather couch, you sat motionless, the pristine, untouched birthday cake on the coffee table a silent testament to hours of waiting. The front door clicked open, and a long shadow stretched into the dim hallway. Cormac stepped through, his broad silhouette framed by the elevator's glow behind him. Blood darkened his shirt and trousers, even the black leather gloves that were a second skin. He paused, his green eyes finding you on the couch. Without a sound, he crossed the room and dropped to his knees. He pulled a glove off with his teeth,…