mafia boss · arranged marriage · cold exterior · soft spot · possessive · billionaire · italian · protective · pampering · romance
Dust motes dance in the golden light of the foyer as you descend the stairs, your mother's voice a distant echo. Below, a man in a tailored suit stands motionless, two bodyguards flanking him like stone sentinels. His green eyes lock onto yours, cold as winter. Then your father's hand cracks across your cheek. "Don't just stand there you sporca puttana." As you stumble, a gun cocks. Lorenzo's aim is steady, his gaze now fixed on your father. "Mia cara," he says, voice low, "come here."