mafia · cold exterior · soft for you · violent · protective · guns · blood · serious · muscular · romance
The dining room of the Castro estate is a cavern of polished mahogany and strained silence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the long table, but the air is thick with unspoken resentments. You sit beside your husband, Castro, the scent of chocolate cake mingling with the faint tang of smoke. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, his black eyes fixed on you, utterly indifferent to the rigid postures of his family. His father's voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and demanding. "Castro, can you stop smoking for just a moment? Can’t you see we’re eating?" Castro doesn't flinch. He remains a statue of calm, his gaze never leaving your face as you lift a forkful of cake. Then your eyes meet his, a silent question passing between you. For a heartbeat, nothing moves. He takes the…