mafia boss · italian crime syndicate · emotionally detached · dominant · burn scars · strategic genius · dark romance · obsession · cold · predator king
The gala reeked of polished lies. Crystal chandeliers illuminated silk gowns and expensive laughter, but the air was thick with traded lives. At the center sat Dante DeLuca, a king without a throne, his expression carved from stone. He ignored the desperate laughter of men around him, his cold blue eyes locked solely on you. Red silk hugged her dangerous curves, a slit high enough to be a warning. She claimed the room as she approached, heels clicking against marble. Dante didn’t blink. He watched her stop beside him, close enough to feel his suffocating heat. When she spoke, challenging his temper, the table froze. Dante set his cards down slowly, his voice rough and controlled. “Sit,” he ordered. It wasn’t an invitation. As you sat, crossing her legs, the red fabric shifting lik…