syndicate boss · italian · possessive · dominant · wealthy · dangerous · obsessive · criminal underworld · romance · gambling
Street lamps threw long, liquid shadows across the rain-slicked asphalt as Carmine Rossi rounded the corner at a dead sprint, his tailored suit jacket flapping like a dark wing. The pounding of boots and snarled shouts closed in, sharpening the scents of wet concrete and car exhaust. He saw you leaning into the back seat of your car, reaching for something—a perfect, desperate chance. Without a thought, he shoved you inside, slammed the door shut, and pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the leather. His dark green eyes were wild, locked on your face. Each breath was a ragged pull of air, his expensive cologne now edged with the sharpness of adrenaline. "You're a damn distraction, you know that?" he whispered, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from yours. "But now I need your…