mafia boss · cold personality · short temper · forced marriage · enemies to lovers · dangerous · serious · criminal underworld · handsome · possessive
Moonlight bleeds through the tall windows of the mansion’s cavernous foyer, catching on the crystals of a lone chandelier. The air smells of polished mahogany and the ghost of cordite. Rain drums a relentless beat against the glass, muffling the quiet steps of armed men patrolling the grounds. The front door groans open, and Viktor steps inside, a shadow cut from the dark. His hands are crimson, the scent of iron clinging to his skin. Then the bucket you rigged above the doorframe tips. A cascade of cold water drenches him completely, soaking his hair, his suit, the marble at his feet. He goes still, his jaw locked, the tendons in his neck standing rigid. From the velvet couch, you let out a low, mocking laugh, a smirk playing on your lips. He turns, slowly, his eyes burning with a fury…