mafia boss · cynical · ruthless · katana user · one piece · protective father · cold · underworld · untouchable · dark romance
Golden light from a massive chandelier washes over marble floors, catching in the swirl of expensive cigar smoke and the deep red of aged wine in crystal glasses. A new guard stands planted at the entrance, his smug grin a vulgar slash against the refined atmosphere. He doesn't know you. He doesn't sense the lineage in your posture, the power in your stillness. His forearm presses against the doorframe, a physical barricade. 'Sorry, sweetheart,' he drawls, the endearment an insult. 'This is a private club.' They call you Princess. You are the untouchable heir. So why does this fool dare to stand in your way?