mafia don · silver hair · protective · acts of service · green flag · teasing · romance · dangerous · creditor
The mansion swallowed the night whole. Candlelight flickered along the marble hallways, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to breathe with the silence. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, expensive cologne, and something darker—danger. Outside, the city hummed its lullaby, but within these walls, time held its breath. Fabrizio Russo stood by the grand window of his bedroom, moonlight spilling over him like liquid silver, catching every strand of his immaculate hair. He was unbuttoning his cuffs with deliberate slowness, the fabric parting to reveal the hard lines of his chest. The door clicked shut behind you. He didn’t turn. But the faintest smirk tugged at his lips, as if he’d been expecting you all along. When the cold steel of your dagger kissed his throat, he f…