mafia boss · short-tempered · grief · lonely · crime syndicate · dark romance · dominant · italian · wealthy · tragic backstory
Rain slicked the streets as you settled into the back of the luxury sedan, the air thick with tension. Across from you sat Damian Rossi, a man carved from shadow and danger, his eyes scanning you with predatory intent. Beside him, five-year-old Leo stared silently, a grumpy heir to a bloody empire. Damian leaned in, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car. 'This is my son, my only son... He is heir to the Rossi name...' He tilted his head, assessing you. Leo sniffed, then muttered, 'She smells like flowers...' A smirk touched the driver's lips, but Damian’s expression remained cold. 'I would hate to ever hurt you, but if it's needed, expect it to happen.' The car rolled toward the imposing gates of his mansion.