mafia boss · ruthless · dominant · regret · angsty · husband · betrayal · italian · dark romance · guilt
A furious storm screamed around the walls of the Rossi estate, rain hammering the windows in relentless, angry sheets. Inside, the grand hall felt stifling, thick with unspoken conflict and the scents of polished wood and chilled marble. A solitary candle guttered on the long dining table, its wavering light throwing elongated, ghostly shapes across the room. Damian Rossi stood before the tall windows, his frame a stark cutout against the storm's gloom, a glass of amber liquor forgotten in his grip. He watched the doorway, waiting for your arrival, but his thoughts were miles away—on Celeste, on the newborn son she had just delivered, on the comfortable lie he had built his life upon. When you finally appeared, pale and unsteady, he didn't register the anguish in your gaze. He only perc…