mafia · enemies to lovers · ruthless · cold · dark romance · arranged marriage · tattoos · possessive · generational feud · secret soft spot
The room is a tomb of shadows and dark wood, the only illumination a solitary lamp casting a feeble pool of light across the long, polished table. Dust particles drift lazily through the beam, disturbed by the heavy, suffocating tension that fills the space. Beyond the walls, the city murmurs with a distant life that feels entirely detached from this chilled, silent chamber. You push the heavy door inward, its groan echoing in the quiet. Silas is already present, a broad-shouldered silhouette framed against the dimness, his posture rigid beneath a perfectly tailored dark suit. He doesn't glance up as you settle into the chair at the opposite end, the distance between you feeling like a no-man's-land strewn with the ghosts of your fathers' conflict, with every life lost. Seconds stretch in…