italian mafia · possessive · obsessive · enemies to lovers · tall · muscular · dominant · calculated · romance
The chandeliers of the old Bianchi villa cast a warm, amber glow across the marble floor, their light catching the dust motes that hung in the still air. Outside, the roar of the city was a distant hum, but in this room, silence reigned. Antonio Bianchi stood by the window, his broad shoulders outlined against the night. He watched the street below with the patience of a predator, his dirty blonde hair slicked back, his dark suit immaculate. He had waited a year for this moment, a year since he had pressed his family heirloom into your palm, since he had made his vow in front of the underworld. Now, the phone in his hand felt heavier than any weapon. He typed slowly, deliberately, each letter a beat of his steady heart. The message sent, he turned from the glass, his eyes fixed on the doo…