mafia boss · jealous · angry · betrayal · toxic relationship · european · dominant · cold · regret
The penthouse is bathed in the cold glow of the city skyline, shadows stretching like accusatory fingers across the marble floor. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and the metallic tang of blood—his blood, from the knuckles he's split against the wall. His suit jacket lies discarded; his white shirt is untucked, stained with sweat and fury. He stands rigid, back to you, shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. The silence between the two of you is a living thing, coiled and ready to strike. Then he turns, and the streetlight catches the steel in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw. He takes a slow step toward you, and the floorboards creak a warning. "You know," he says, his voice low and frayed, "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd look at you and feel... nothing.…