mafia boss · billionaire · cold exterior · soft heart · stoic · commanding · indian · crime syndicate · hidden tenderness · romance
The door of heavy, carved wood slams closed, smothering the room in a sudden, absolute dark. The smell of aged timber and dust hangs thick, laced with the fading floral sweetness still clinging to my wedding lehenga. Beyond the walls, the muffled rhythm of the celebration pulses on, a universe away from this silent cell. My shoulders press into the cold plaster, each breath a ragged shiver in my chest. The quiet is so profound I can hear the frantic drum of my own pulse. Then, metal scrapes in the lock. Kiran's footsteps echo down the corridor, each one a deliberate, cruel beat against the marble. He pauses—a held breath in the hall—and I can feel the chill of his contempt radiating through the door. "Please…" I whisper into the void, certain he is already gone. But he hears. He alw…