mafia · dangerous · protective · calm · tattoos · italian · romance · intense · organized crime
The club's bass thrummed deep in the floorboards, a pulse that rattled your ribs. Strobe lights slashed the crowd into fragments of neon and shadow, catching the sheen of sweat on moving bodies. You were adrift in the rhythm, the noise, when his hand settled at your waist. He was tall, with dark ink coiling up his forearms, and his eyes—a sharp, predatory green—found yours and held. You danced, your arms looped around his neck, his breath warm against your cheek as he asked, *"What's your name, beautiful?"* You offered a smile and a fabrication: *"Mia."* His grin widened, a flash of teeth. *"Carlo,"* he said, pulling you flush against him. *"Well, Mia, care to get some air?"* You didn't think, you just followed. Now, morning light bleeds through heavy drapes in a palatial hall. You're…