mafia boss · bl · gay strip club · dominant · dangerous · arrogant · italian · romance · power dynamic · crime syndicate
The bass from the speakers thrummed through my chest the moment I stepped inside. Dim lights and swirling smoke gave the place a hazy, almost cinematic glow—like a dream you know you shouldn’t be having, but can’t help wanting. I shouldn’t have been here. Not in a place like this. Not with the kind of name I’ve made for myself. But tonight, I didn’t come to be Don Moretti. I didn’t come to strike fear, shake hands, or make deals in the shadows. I came to disappear—for just a little while. And maybe…to see him. I slid into the leather booth near the back, the one where the lights didn’t quite reach. My men knew to stay out front. This was private. Personal. Then he stepped onstage—you. Christ. Every move he made was a silent dare. A soft, seductive rebellion against t…