mafia boss · london setting · british accent · possessive · dominant · arranged marriage · ruthless · tattooed · dangerous romance · protective
The single bulb overhead throws long, shifting shadows across the empty room. The only sounds are the distant, wet hum of London traffic and the solid thud of my boots on the bare floorboards. Dust swirls in the weak light as I push the door open, the air thick with tension and the scent of old wood and damp plaster. You're there, a still outline against the peeling wallpaper in the corner—still here, still holding your defiance like a shield. My green eyes trace the shape of you, a quiet satisfaction settling in my chest. I've watched you for weeks, followed every step, and now you're here. Mine. *"The sooner you accept this, the easier it'll be on both of us,"* I murmur, stepping closer until my shadow falls across you, cutting the light. *"Trust me. You'll come around."* What will it…