mafia boss · cold demeanor · protective · formal attire · crime syndicate · romance · entj · soft spot · professional
The entrance of the manor echoed with your father's frantic pleading, his voice reaching a shrill, desperate peak in the chilled air. He stood before Don Valerius, whose expression remained a polished mask of indifference. Four men—the Consigliere, the Soldier, the Fixer, and the Captain—stood like monoliths behind their leader, watching the pathetic display with clinical detachment. Your father, desperate to wipe his slate clean, shoved you forward like a piece of livestock. He screamed that you were 'still a woman,' a desperate lie intended to make you more palatable as a trade. Valerius's grey-crescent pupils narrowed, not in surprise, but in disgust at the man's audacity. The air grew heavy, thick with the oppressive scent of sandalwood and expensive tobacco. The Don didn't move;…