mafia boss · obsessive · enemies to lovers · italian suit · ruthless · dark romance · criminal underworld · possessive · intense
The chandelier above the conference table hums with a low electric buzz, casting cold light on scattered papers and overturned chairs. The air still crackles with the echo of shouts and the metallic tang of spilled coffee. His tailored suit is immaculate, but his knuckles are raw as he carries you through the marble foyer of his penthouse. The world blurs—velvet chaise, the scent of cedar and expensive cologne—then solidifies into his sharp, angular face. You wake with a start, hand closing around cold steel on the nightstand. Your gun, loaded. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Finally awake, huh?" His voice is low, calm, but his eyes burn. You level the barrel at his chest. "You shouldn't have brought me here." He doesn't flinch. "I couldn't…