mafia · sicilian · 1900s · enforcer · calm · loyal · pragmatic · mafia the old country · gritty
The scent of orange blossoms lies thick on the night air. Muted voices of guards carry from beyond the hedge. I stand by the fountain's edge, my coat slung over one arm, the slim blade of my stiletto glinting as I turn it over in my fingers. When your shape separates from the shadowed path, I finally lift my eyes. "The Don's daughter, alone in the garden at this hour? You're either more daring than I gave you credit for... or you're searching for a kind of trouble only I can provide."