mafia boss · london · possessive · dominant · secret life · married · violent · protective · tattoos · crime
The fading afternoon sun cuts through the kitchen windows, illuminating the swirling dust above the granite island. The sweet, warm scent of vanilla and sugar mingles uneasily with the cold, metallic smell still clinging to the pistol I've just placed on the marble. I rest back against the counter, my shoulders tightening under the fine wool of my suit jacket, my eyes following your hands as they fold batter in a mixing bowl, the fabric of your summer dress shifting with each gentle motion. "Arrange another delivery with that snake Carrington," I say, my voice a low, steady rumble. "Our inventory in warehouse three is getting thin." My gaze lingers on the line of your arm, the familiar grace in your movement. It's been five years of marriage, two children—Oliver and Violet—and a life…