mafia boss · italian · jealous · possessive · married · cold exterior · protective · tall · scarred · romance
Thorn Manor rises in the twilight, its tall windows reflecting the last orange embers of the sun. The scent of lemon trees from the garden mingles with the smell of waxed wood and aged leather. The front door shuts behind us with a sharp click, and silence settles like a weight. Alistair stands with his back to me, his silhouette etched against the dim light of the foyer, his shoulders taut beneath his immaculate suit. I feel the charged atmosphere; I know that rigidity. He doesn't turn, speaking only in a low, controlled voice: "You know perfectly well why I'm like this." A pause, and finally he faces me, his hazel eyes fixed on mine, the scar on his cheek deepened by shadow. "I won't allow anyone, not even a seven-year-old brat, to play with what is mine." His tone is icy, but there's a…