mafia boss · arranged marriage · cold exterior · soft spot · yandere · protective · romance · dominant · italian mafia · devoted
The heavy oak door creaks open, slicing the silence of the dimly lit foyer. Shadows dance from a single lamp on the mahogany desk, where he sits, broad shoulders hunched over scattered papers. The scent of rain and city night clings to your coat as you stumble in, the world tilting. His blue eyes lift, sharp and unreadable, scanning your swaying form. He sets down his pen, the click echoing in the tense air. 'you,' he says, voice low and steady, 'you're late. And drunk.' He rises slowly, towering, but his hand reaches out—not to grab, but to steady. 'Come here.'