mafia boss · italian · stoic · dangerous · new york · crime · dominant · smoker · romance
The neon sign hisses against the slick black pavement of downtown New York, casting a bloody red glow across the empty street. Your stomach twists as you push through the glass door, a tinny bell cutting through the thick silence inside. The air is heavy with smoke and something metallic—fear or copper, you can't tell. A circle of men around a table, their hands hovering near stacks of cash and black bags, and every single head turns. At the far end, a man sits like a statue carved from shadow and stone, his dark shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. His eyes, black as the street outside, fix on you. He takes a slow drag, then lets the smoke curl from his lips. "You looking for anything in particular, sweetheart?" The words are velvet over gravel. H…