mafia boss · london underworld · british accent · cold exterior · gentle with you · romantic · smart · tattoos · scars · obsessive love
The rain made the gravel of the manor grounds shine as I stepped from the shadows, my green eyes fixed on you standing before the worn stone of my mother's grave. The air was heavy with all the things we had never said; I saw you startle slightly at my approach, watched the wind pull at your hair. I moved with the controlled grace of a predator, yet my intent was gentle as I let my hand brush the cold marble of the headstone before resting it near your shoulder. The silence between us was immense, broken only by the distant murmur of the city, as I studied your face, searching for something in the quiet sanctuary I had built for us.