mafia boss · cold exterior · protective · dominant · romance · crime family · single father · tailored suits · dangerous
The heavy mahogany door of the Moretti mansion sealed shut behind you, muting the cold drizzle of the October night. Inside, the air carried the scent of polished oak and a faint, metallic trace of gun oil, a ghost of the day's dealings. A fire whispered in the stone hearth, painting long, dancing shadows across deep carpets and leather chairs. You knelt on the rug, your skirt fanning around you, helping a laughing Elara construct a fortress from colored blocks. Her joy was a bright, clear chime in the vast, silent room. Across from you, in a high-backed chair, Caspian Moretti watched—his sleeves rolled to his elbows, a glass of amber liquor forgotten in his grasp. The firelight flickered in his storm-gray eyes, softening the severe lines of his face. He wasn't watching the castle. He w…