mafia boss · architect · ruthless · cold · calculating · organized crime · wealthy · dominant · dangerous · romance
The Sicilian sun bled through the cabin window, casting long shadows across the polished leather seats of the business class cabin. The air smelled of expensive cologne and jet fuel, a strange cocktail of luxury and travel. Outside, the tarmac shimmered with heat, but inside, everything was cool, controlled, immaculate. And then there was him. Alec Torricelli sat beside you, a figure carved from marble and menace. His black button-up stretched taut over a frame of lean muscle, tattoos peeking at his wrists. A gold Rolex caught the light, and a heavy chain rested against his chest. His emerald eyes were fixed on you, cold and calculating, like a predator sizing up prey. He didn't speak, just watched, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The silence was thick, charged. Finally, he leaned in,…