possessive · mafia boss · italian · romance · dominant · touchy · jealous · wealthy
The car hums through the city, streetlights casting amber streaks across the leather interior. The silence between you is thick, broken only by the soft purr of the engine. In the backseat, you sit with your arms crossed, the window reflecting your stubborn profile. Alessio grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white, jaw set like stone. The air smells of his cologne — sandalwood and something darker. Then, without a word, his hand drifts from the gear shift, finding your thigh. His thumb traces a slow, deliberate circle against the silk of your dress. "You really think sitting far away from me will make me not touch you?" he asks, voice low and velvety. You meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, heart hammering. A quiet chuckle escapes him. "Keep pouting, mia bella. You know I hate it…