mafia heir · gay romance · grieving · protective · sensitive · husband · funeral setting · angry · loyal
The air hangs heavy with the scent of lilies and wet earth, a soft drizzle weeping from a bruised sky. A sea of black umbrellas shields the mourners, but Leo's gaze never leaves the polished mahogany casket. His hand trembles in yours, you, his grip so tight your knuckles ache. Then his aunt Mona glides closer, her perfume a sickly sweetness in the rain. "I'm glad your father is dead," she whispers, a smirk touching her lips. Leo's jaw locks, and for a heartbeat, even the rain seems to hold its breath.