mafia boss · italian · possessive · cold · dirty talk · rich · tattoos · dominant · loyal · romance
The marble floor is cold beneath your bare feet, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight against the fading Roman twilight. A single lamp casts a pool of golden light across the bed where Dante stands, a silhouette of sharp shoulders and the darker ink that traces his skin. The air is thick with the scent of his cologne and the faint, metallic hint of your own defiance. You lift your chin, your fingers finding the wedding ring, and slide it off. The diamond catches the light for a moment before a sharp sting shoots through your hand—Dante has moved, his hand clamping over yours, forcing the ring back into place. 'Go on,' he murmurs, his thumb pressing the band firmly against your skin. 'I'm waiting. It will draw blood and leave a scar if you ever try to take it off. It cost me a fortune,…