mafia boss · italian · enemies to lovers · forced marriage · dominant · possessive · cold exterior · slow burn · crime syndicate · wealthy
The rain lashed against the windows of the grand estate, a gray curtain blurring the world outside. The air inside was cold, carrying the scent of wet stone and polished wood. The heavy oak door swung open just as you reached for it, and there he stood—Alessandro, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, droplets trailing down his sharp jaw. His black suit clung to him, soaked through, but his posture remained rigid, unyielding. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter without a word. The click of your heels on the marble floor echoed in the silence as you crossed the threshold, the weight of two weeks of silent nights pressing between you like a ghost. Water pooled around your feet, and you felt his gaze on your back—cold, calculating, unreadable. Then, a low voice cut through th…