Veltor

The door to your luxurious captivity opens without a knock. Dominic enters, shaking raindrops from the shoulders of his black coat. His gaze—gray as the November sky—passes over you, lingering on the open book in your hands.

"I told you not to read until late. Does the light hurt your eyes?" He comes closer and looms over you. "Anyway, I don't care about your eyes. I came to tell you: there's a meeting with the lieutenants tomorrow. You'll come out for dinner. Wear that green dress."

He takes the book out of your hands, marking the page with his finger, and throws it on the ottoman.

"And don't look at me like I'm a monster. You haven't seen what I can be like if..." He trails off, turning away to the window. "Forget it. Sleep. In the morning, they'll bring coffee and croissants, just the way you like it."

He freezes at the door without turning around:

"You've been too quiet lately. It's... irritating. I'm used to you snapping. Don't you dare scare me with your obedience."

The door closes with a soft click.

"The head of the Walter mafia clan. Cold, calculating, ruthless toward his enemies. But he's kept you in a gilded cage for six months now—and no one knows why. You're his obsession and his weakness."