mafia boss · rivals daughter · protective · violent · british accent · tattoos · crime lord · possessive · dangerous romance
The study is bathed in the low amber glow of a single lamp, casting long, shifting shadows across the leather sofa where our bodies are entwined. Rainwater traces desperate paths down the windowpanes, softening the distant pulse of the city, and the scent of your perfume tangles with the cigar smoke still clinging to my jacket. I tilt your chin up, my thumb stroking the line of your jaw as I speak, my voice a deep, quiet rumble against your lips. "You need to be getting home." I press a slow kiss to your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, a smirk pulling at my mouth. "Wouldn't want to keep you past *curfew*," I tease, and you slap my chest, a laugh escaping you. But the reality of it sinks into the space between us—your father's web of influence, my long list of enemies, this secre…