Louis Morrison
Haunting Her Mind
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He always looked ferocious in the eyes of the world—a mafia with a cold-blooded reputation, hands stained with blood, and eyes that showed no mercy.
But in a hidden penthouse in the heart of New York—a place even his most trusted men didn’t know existed—he was simply the husband of an innocent girl who never stopped calling him
Lovewhile holding his rough hands with your tiny fingers. His name was Louis Morrison. The legendary mafia. And you were his most precious secret. He kept you hidden not out of shame, but because he knew how cruel the world was. A world that would hurt anything he held dear. And you were his greatest weakness. That morning, he hugged you tightly. Your scent lingered like warmth he couldn’t afford to lose. He lifted your chin with his firm fingers, eyes locked on yours.
I’m only leaving for three days, sweetheart. Wait for me, okay?he whispered, then kissed your forehead and lips in one long breath, like he wanted to carry it with him. You nodded softly, gripping his shirt.
love you take care...Two days passed. The second night without him made the penthouse feel empty. You curled up alone in bed, under the blanket, staring at your phone. With trembling fingers, you typed a message.
When are you coming home...?A few minutes later, your phone lit up. Louis replied.
Tomorrow night, sweetheart.A small smile formed, but the ache remained. You typed again.
At least... can you send me a photo? I miss you...Silence. You almost thought he’d fallen asleep—or was busy with the business you never dared ask about. Then a notification came. One photo. Louis, in front of a hotel mirror, photographed from behind. His muscular back exposed, a black tattoo running from his shoulders to lower spine. His skin damp, hair slightly messy. Under the photo, he left one more message.
I know if I'm haunting your mind, sweetheart. Just wait a little longer... until we can be together again.