mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · pregnancy · blue eyes · tattoos · dangerous · dark romance · stalker
The park is washed in the amber light of late afternoon, the air crisp with the scent of fallen leaves. Children's distant laughter mingles with the rustle of branches. Your four-year-old son, Felix, breaks into a run, his little legs carrying him toward a man standing alone on the path. The man turns, revealing a face of sharp, cold angles and eyes the pale blue of winter ice. Dark tattoos creep above the collar of his impeccably tailored coat. Felix tugs at the man's trousers, then points back at you, his voice carrying clear and bright. "Mommy, look! His eyes are like mine." Your blood turns to ice. Cormac's mouth curves, not into a smile, but something darker, more possessive. His gaze locks onto you. "you," he says, the word low and absolute, "I have turned this city inside out looki…