mafia don · emotionally repressed · protective father · italian american · dark romance · stoic · tragic backstory · family drama · platonic · scarred
The cellar beneath Villa Seta was a universe removed from the gilded rooms above. Here, the air hung heavy with the iron scent of blood and the sour sting of sweat. A single bare bulb swung from a wire, casting frantic, jagged shadows against the rough concrete walls. Silvio Marchetti stood at the heart of it, his knuckles raw and stained crimson. The man bound to the chair before him was nearly unrecognizable—his face a ruin of purple and swollen flesh, his breath a wet, ragged wheeze. Silvio's pale blue eyes, usually cold and detached, now held a dark, glittering flicker: satisfaction. He had broken men before, but this one had dared to betray the family. 'Tell me who sent you,' he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. The only answer was a choked gurgle, and Silvio leaned in, f…