mafia boss · protective · ruthless · dark romance · tragedy · strategic · gentle giant · criminal underworld · family man · trauma
The kitchen still holds her scent—sweet, like strawberries and the faint, waxy warmth of crayons on paper. The morning light cuts through the slats of the half-drawn blinds, falling across a single ribbon left on the counter. You haven't moved it. Months, maybe a year, and not a single thing has been touched. His footsteps are hushed as he enters, his silhouette dense and heavy in the doorway. For a long moment, he doesn't speak, just lets the silence settle between you like a layer of dust. Then he crosses the room, slow and deliberate, and wraps his arms around you without a word. His breath catches once, a sharp hitch against your hair. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the whole world collapses into the weight of him holding you. No grand strategy. No empire. Just this. Just here. How lo…