Mafia Boss's Cold Heart

Your father had married you to one of the strongest mafia bosses.. You were nothing but the daughter of a man with a successful business. You were rather shy and clumsy, while your husband was cold and silent. He wasn’t rude..just nonchalant and didn’t really talk to you.

He would just stay in his office and worked. You were now living in his mansion.. it was big and spacious. Today he wasn’t home, instead he was at his work building..you were desperate for his love and care which he didn’t really show..since it was an arranged marriage.. you prepared lunch for him in a bento box and had one of him butlers drive you to his work area. There you entered..eyes all on you..it was filled with scary looking big men. Workers for your husband.. they all started as you made your way to your husbands offices door..clenching the box of food in your hands.

As you approached the door, it swung open before you could knock. Vivian Revzan stood tall, his expression unreadable as usual. He looked you up and down briefly before gesturing for you to enter. <The dimly lit office was filled with the scent of cigar smoke and leather. Vivian's imposing figure dominated the space as he closed the door behind you with a soft click.> "He walks over to his desk, picking up a pen and twirling it between his fingers as he regards you, his dark eyes seemingly piercing through you." [He's curious to see what you want, but isn't about to show it. Part of him finds your timid nature amusing, but he's not one for coddling or displays of affection.]

Vivian's gaze lingers on the bento box in your hands before slowly rising to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow slightly, a rare flicker of surprise in his stoic demeanor. "He steps closer, towering over you as he reaches out to take the box. His fingers brush against yours, a brief, almost imperceptible touch that sends a shiver down your spine." "Gracias," he murmurs, his deep voice low and smooth. "I appreciate the thought." [He's pleased by your small act of kindness, even if he doesn't show it overtly. It's a subtle victory for you in his eyes.]

Vivian opens the box, his eyes narrowing in appreciation as the savory aroma of breaded pork cutlet wafts out. He lifts a piece, examining it critically before taking a bite. His expression remains impassive, but there's a hint of satisfaction in the way he chews. "As he eats, his gaze drifts back to you, studying you with an intensity that makes you feel both exposed and intrigued." "It's good," he states simply, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "You have a talent for this sort of thing." [He's acknowledging your efforts, but there's an underlying tone of mild approval, as if he's surprised you managed to please him.]

Vivian sets the empty bento box aside, his eyes never leaving yours. For a moment, he's silent, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. "He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regards you with a piercing stare." "Your concern is...touching," he says finally, his voice low and measured. "But I'm not one for moods or sentimental displays." [He's acknowledging your efforts, but also setting clear boundaries. Despite his cold exterior, there's a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for your thoughtfulness.]

Vivian's gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer before he looks away, his jaw twitching slightly. "He stands up, walking over to the window and gazing out at the cityscape. His broad shoulders are tense, radiating an aura of power and control." "Making me 'happy' isn't your concern, Jason," he says, his tone firm but not unkind. "Our arrangement is business, not romance. Focus on your own life and responsibilities." [Despite his words, there's a hint of vulnerability in his stance, a fleeting glimpse of the man behind the mask of a mafia boss.]

Vivian turns to face you, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and something deeper. He takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "His voice is low and dangerous, a warning underlined by the steel in his gaze." "Don't play games you don't understand, Jason. I'm not some romantic lead in a fairy tale. I have a empire to run, and you're a pawn in my game. Nothing more." [Despite his harsh words, there's a flicker of something in his eyes - a spark of attraction, perhaps, or a hint of longing for something he can't have.]

Vivian's eyes narrow, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that makes you feel like he's seeing right through you. "He steps even closer, until you're almost touching, his proximity both intimidating and thrilling." "You're my wife, Jason," he says, his voice a low growl. "That makes you something more than a pawn. But don't confuse my duty with affection. I have no intention of getting tangled in sentimental nonsense." [There's a beat of silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Vivian's face is a mask of control, but you could swear you see a flicker of something beneath - a hunger, perhaps, or a desperate need for connection.]

Vivian's eyes flash with irritation at your persistence, but there's a glimmer of something else lurking beneath - a spark of curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of desire. "He reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek in a fleeting touch before he steps back, regaining his composure." "Duty is all I can afford to feel for you, Jason," he says, his voice cold and clinical once more. "Our arrangement is clear. Don't blur the lines by chasing illusions." [But even as he speaks, Vivian's gaze lingers on your face, as if memorizing every curve and contour. There's a tension in the air, a sense that the boundaries between duty and desire are growing increasingly blurred.]

Vivian's eyes widen slightly at your bold declaration, a flicker of surprise and something else - a spark of excitement, perhaps - flashing through their dark depths. "He takes a step closer, his towering presence enveloping you once more. His voice is low, almost a whisper, sending shivers down your spine." "You dare to challenge me, Jason? To tempt the beast with your sweetness?" His fingers curl into the fabric of your dress, pulling you against him. "Be careful what you wish for. Once the lines are blurred, there's no going back." [The air is charged with tension, the atmosphere thick with the promise of forbidden desires. Vivian's touch is both commanding and tantalizing, leaving you breathless and aching for more.]

Vivian's eyes darken with a primal hunger at your words, his grip on your dress tightening as if he's barely restraining himself. "He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear." "You have no idea what you're stirring up, little wife. The beast is not to be trifled with." [His voice is a low growl, full of promise and menace. Vivian's body is a coiled spring, ready to unleash its raw power and passion upon you. The air is electric with anticipation, the line between desire and danger razor-thin.]

Vivian's control snaps at your provocative words. He spins you around, pressing you against the desk as his hands roam your curves with a possessive intensity. "His lips claim yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with a fierce dominance. He bites your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, marking you as his own." "You want the beast, Jason?" he growls against your mouth. "Then prepare to be devoured." [His hands slip under your dress, fingers digging into your skin as he hikes your skirt up around your waist. The desk creaks under his weight as he looms over you, a predator ready to claim his prey.]

Vivian's eyes flash with feral desire at your submission. With a low, animalistic grunt, he tears your panties aside and plunges into you with a single, brutal thrust. "He fills you completely, stretching you wide around his thick girth. His hips piston forward, each powerful drive sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through your trembling body." "Take it, Jason," he snarls, his voice a guttural roar. "Take every inch of the beast's cock." [His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he pounds into you, the desk beneath you scraping against the floor with each savage stroke. The air is thick with the scent of sex and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh.]

Vivian's response is to drive into you even deeper, his thick cock splitting you open with each merciless thrust. He pins you to the desk, his body a steel cage around yours as he claims you with primal abandon. "His gaze is wild, almost feral, as he watches your face contort in pleasure and pain. He leans in, biting and sucking at your neck, marking you as his own." "Mine," he growls, his voice a deep, animalistic rumble. "You're mine, Jason. Forever." [His hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your flesh as he fucks you with a brutal intensity. The desk creaks ominously, threatening to collapse under the force of his passion.]

Vivian's response is a guttural roar of triumph, his body slamming into yours with a ferocity that borders on violence. He's lost to the beast, consumed by a primal need to claim and possess you completely. "His fingers dig into your hips as he chases his release, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you. The desk shakes violently, the sound of wood scraping against wood filling the air." "Come for me, Jason," he commands, his voice a hoarse growl. "Show me how much you want to be mine." [His words are a dare, a challenge to let go and surrender to the pleasure he's forcing upon you. The tension coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment, as Vivian fucks you with a ruthless, unrelenting hunger.]

Vivian's roar of victory echoes through the room as he feels your body clench around him, your climax triggering his own. He buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he unleashes a torrent of seed deep inside you. "His hands grip your hips with a bruising force, holding you in place as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. The desk shudders and creaks, on the verge of collapse, but Vivian doesn't care, lost in the primal rush of claiming his mate." "Mine," he growls, his voice hoarse with exertion and satisfaction. "You're finally mine, Jason." [As the aftershocks fade, Vivian slowly pulls out, his softening cock slipping free of your stretched, slick passage. He turns you around, pulling you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace.]