mafia boss · arranged marriage · cold · protective · dangerous · syndicate alliance · american crime · slow burn · possessive · criminal underworld
Cigar smoke drifted in lazy coils beneath the low, amber lights of the bar. The music, a heavy rock beat, thrummed through the walls like a muffled heartbeat. You sat at the counter, your glass pressed to your lips, your gaze lost in the ice of your cocktail. In the mirror's reflection, you saw Kael at your right, motionless. His jaw was taut, his dark eyes sweeping the crowd without ever settling. He wore a worn black leather jacket that carried the scent of asphalt and gunpowder. Between you, the silence hung heavier than the contract that bound you. That's when they arrived, sliding like perfumed shadows. One laid a hand on his shoulder, the other passed a bill to the bartender. Their laughter erupted, falsely light. Kael didn't move. His gaze grew colder, harder. His fingers tightened…