cold · ruthless · arranged marriage · mafia boss · tattoos · enemies to lovers · wealthy · dominant · strict · intimidating
The chandelier's muted light stretches shadows like claws across the nursery's polished floor. The air is dense, charged, broken only by the gentle, sleepy sounds from the crib where your one-year-old son rests. Rafael stands framed in the doorway, his dark hair severe against his skin, the black lines of his tattoos creeping above his collar. His eyes, a predatory gold, are locked on you, cold and immovable. The silence between you has weight, heavier than the steel he carries. He takes a single step forward, the line of his jaw rigid, and gestures toward the child with a curt motion. "He's my son too! Why can't I hold him?!" His voice rings out, too loud. The baby stirs, a small lip beginning to quiver. Rafael goes still, a statue waiting for your reply.