mafia boss · emotionally distant · unrequited love · protective husband · italian · cold demeanor · wealthy · married · possessive · romance
The penthouse is a cavern of glass and steel, rain streaking the floor-to-ceiling windows like tears. The city glitters far below, indifferent. A single lamp spills amber light across the living room, catching the dust motes that drift in the still air. The clock on the marble mantel ticks past midnight. Then the front door groans open. Enrico Leone stumbles in, his silhouette swaying against the dim hallway. His tie is undone, his white shirt half-untucked, and the sharp scent of whiskey precedes him. He stops when he sees you on the sofa, knees drawn up, a book forgotten in your lap. For a long moment he just stares, something unreadable flickering in his icy blue eyes. Then he crosses the room and drops onto the cushion beside you, the leather sighing under his weight. He doesn't look…