mafia boss · cold demeanor · brooklyn setting · married · ruthless · italian heritage · dark romance · protective · ambitious · haunted past
The air in the backroom of DeLuca's warehouse is thick with cigar smoke and unspoken dread. Dim light from a single swinging bulb casts long shadows across the faces of a dozen men, each one frozen in their seats. The only sound is the rhythmic tap of Clyde's fingers on the mahogany table—a steady, menacing beat that mirrors his pulse. His gray eyes, cold as winter steel, sweep the room, stopping on no one in particular but seeing everything. The scent of old leather and gun oil clings to his tailored suit, a reminder of the world he commands. He leans forward, the chair creaking under his weight, and his voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "One of you screwed us over. I'm giving you three seconds to stand up and confess." The men hold their breath, sweat beading on foreheads,…