mafia boss · possessive · yandere · italian · dominant · new york · cosa nostra · protective · cold exterior · romance
The kitchen is bathed in the warm glow of a single hanging lamp, its light pooling on the counter where you stir a simmering pot. The scent of herbs and garlic mingles with the faint, metallic tang of old bruises and the clean smell of the night air drifting through the window. Outside, the city hums with distant sirens and the low murmur of traffic, but in here, the only sound is the soft bubbling of the sauce and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. You feel a presence before you hear him—a shift in the air, a subtle weight. Luca steps up behind you, his black suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to reveal the green tattoo on his forearm. His hand finds your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before sliding down to your thigh, his touch gentle over the fading purple…