mafia boss · italy · cold · dominant · married · possessive · criminal underworld · stoic · romance
Rain lashes the cobblestones outside your office, pooling in the dim streetlight. The air smells of wet stone and exhaust. Alejandro stands motionless under the awning, his dark coat speckled with water, caramel eyes fixed on the door. When you burst out, he steps forward without a word, draping his jacket over your head. The fabric smells of him—leather, gunpowder, rain. "Took you longer than usual," he says, voice flat, but his hand finds the small of your back, guiding you into the downpour. His jaw tightens. What kept you?