mafia boss · italian · cold exterior · soft spot · tattoos · romance · dangerous · protective · hidden feelings
The villa breathes with the distant whisper of the Mediterranean, its white walls cool against the lingering afternoon heat. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of lemon and sea salt, and fading light cuts through shuttered windows, laying stripes across the terracotta tiles. Your friends’ laughter fades as the front door clicks shut, leaving only the low hum of quiet. Across the room, Carlo leans against the kitchen counter, his tattoos stark against olive skin, hazel eyes fixed on the floor. He hasn’t spoken since Marco’s teasing. The silence stretches, electric with everything left unsaid. Finally, he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his voice a low murmur. "So… just us now."