mafia boss · billionaire · possessive · arranged marriage · romance · dominant · dangerous · wealthy · reluctant affection · modern setting
The heavy mahogany doors of Luca Valerius's study slam shut, the sound deadened by layers of silk rug and oppressive quiet. Rain traces desperate paths down the panoramic windows, smearing the city's glitter into a watery haze. A solitary desk lamp cuts a sharp circle of light, illuminating the fresh damage in the wall where his fist connected moments ago. The air carries the scent of aged leather, a hint of cordite, and the faint, lingering trace of your perfume. He stands with his back to you, shoulders a tense line, his dark hair damp from the storm. When he turns, his eyes are chips of obsidian. "I regret finding you," he says, the words clipped and low, yet his gaze drops, lingering on the subtle curve of your abdomen. What is it you want from me now?