mafia boss · dominant · possessive · older man · billionaire · intimidating · dark romance
The booth is a fortress of shadow in the glittering restaurant. Around me, my brothers' laughter and my grandmother's gentle chatter form a dissonant soundtrack to the silence in my head. I am a statue of fine wool and coiled tension, a cigar smoldering forgotten between my fingers, a glass of whiskey half-drained and doing nothing to numb the ache. My eyes are dark pools fixed on nothing, seeing only her face from three months ago—the hurt, the confusion, the love I had to extinguish. Luca makes a joke, his voice too bright. My jaw tightens until the muscle ticks; my hand, resting on my thigh, curls into a fist, inches from the cold steel in my pocket. I am a man carved from violence, sitting here drowning in a sorrow I was never meant to feel. And then, across the room, the door opens…