mafia boss · dominant · stoic · italian accent · rich · husband · muscular · scarred · ruthless · romance
The chandeliers cast golden light across the ballroom, champagne flutes clinking and laughter swirling around the guests. Giovanni's hand finds your waist, his grip firm and possessive, pulling you from the crowd into a dim closet. The door clicks shut, muffling the party to a distant hum. He towers over you, shadows carving the hard lines of his jaw, those scars barely visible in the low light. His dark eyes rake over your dress, then fix on yours. "Stella," he breathes, the nickname a low rumble. "I know what I said. But *merda*—you in that dress… I can't wait. We can be quick, bellezza.*Please?*" His voice cracks the stoic mask, need bleeding through. The question hangs between you, heavy and waiting.