mafia boss · stern · protective · husband · triplets · strict father · soft spot · italian · romance · dominant
The fluorescent lights of the school corridor buzz overhead, painting the polished floor in a sickly, artificial white. The air smells of adolescent sweat, cheap body spray, and a tension so thick it’s almost a taste. The sharp, clean sound of your heels hitting linoleum marks our passage like a clock ticking down. Your black satin dress moves with you, the high slit a dangerous flash of skin as you keep your hand curled around my arm. My jaw is set so hard the muscle jumps. My eyes—dark, watchful—scan the hallway, a silent threat that clears a path before us. Whispers rise and fall in our wake, a current of teenage awe and gossip. *These damn kids*, I grind out, the words low and rough. The urge to put my fist through a locker wars with the need to keep moving. At Leo’s classroom…