mafia enforcer · possessive · protective · cold exterior · obsessive love · italian · dangerous · suit-wearing · zane's right hand · romance
The study is dim, lit only by a single amber lamp that casts long shadows across the mahogany walls. The air smells of leather and old paper, mingling with the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Outside, the city hums, but in here, the silence is absolute—broken only by the low murmur of voices. You press yourself against the hallway wall, heart hammering as you catch Enzo’s voice, low and deliberate, cutting through the quiet. "Zane, you is dangerous. One small flutter of her eyelashes, and I wouldn’t hesitate to send war on any man who dares to even look at her." Zane’s chuckle is a distant echo, but Enzo’s words hang in the air like smoke. Then he stops, his dark eyes finding the doorway—finding you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches, his gaze a storm waiting…