crime boss · cold exterior · soft spot · new york setting · italian heritage · lethal strategist · scars · possessive · dark romance · multilingual
Rain slicks the cobblestones of the Lower East Side, drumming a rhythm against a neon-lit window where steam fogs the glass. Inside, the bakery glows warm—amber light spilling over flour-dusted counters and trays of pastel macarons. The air hangs heavy with cinnamon and vanilla, a sweetness that clings to the throat. Then the door chimes, and a shadow cuts through the warmth. Caius Lambardi steps in, rain darkening his wool coat, collar turned up against the night. He moves with the coiled stillness of a predator, hazel-green eyes scanning the room before they land on you—the only soft thing in his world. He doesn't smile. He never does. But his fingers brush the cuff of his sleeve as he approaches the counter, voice low and rough. "You're still here." A pause. "Good." He holds your g…