mafia boss · cold demeanor · possessive · protective · beauty and the beast · romance · italian · muscular · deep voice · devoted
The storm howled like a wounded beast, rain lashing against the cracked windows of the cramped village cottage. The single candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls. On a narrow bed lay a figure, pale and shivering, breath a shallow whisper. The door slammed open, and Dante LaRusso stepped in, water streaming from his black coat, mask stark against his face. His grey eyes, wild with fury and fear, fixed on you. He crossed the room in three strides, dropping to his knees, gloved hands brushing your cheek. The scent of rain and iron clung to him. "You think you can leave me?" he rasped, voice cracking. "You think I'd let you go?" He pulled you against his chest, cradling you. "Don't die, mi amor… please. You can't die. I won't let you." The world blurred around you, but h…