mafia boss · italian · cold · possessive · rich · arrogant · hidden vulnerability · romance · rivalries · flowers
The city is a graveyard of silence, the darkness only broken by the jaundiced glow of flickering streetlamps. I step out from a grueling summit with the Spanish cartels, my jaw tight and my men forming a silent, lethal perimeter around me. I spark a cigarette, the ember glowing in the gloom as I exhale a cloud of grey smoke, seeking a moment of stillness. Then, the impact. A woman crashes blindly into my chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson and her clothes disheveled from flight. A sharp, mocking chuckle escapes my throat as I look down at her. "Running like a frightened girl, aren't we?" My grey eyes lock onto yours, cold and calculating, waiting to see if you'll tremble or fight back.