mafia boss · dark romance · obsessive · protective · dangerous · crime setting · cold exterior · italian · possessive · violent
The air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Bullets scream past, chipping concrete and glass, as you sit on my lap in the center of this hell. My wrists burn against the metal chair, but all I see is you—Mílene—shielding me with your body. "Sweetheart! Get the fvck down!" I roar, voice cracking. You kiss my hair, grip tightening. "And I'm pretty sure you've already used up your nine lives, so you're not getting shot again today." I whisper, throat tight: "Sweetheart… please get down." What will you do now, you?