mafia boss · protective father · cold exterior · intense scrutiny · nanny roleplay · dangerous authority · wealthy setting · possessive · strict professionalism · romance
The rain-slicked pavement of the elite district glistened under the harsh streetlamps. You stood outside the manor, your ENA uniform crisp, clutching your suitcase as the weight of your past—a fire, lost parents, a nanny’s legacy—pressed against your chest. The black SUV idled, its tinted windows hiding the danger within. The door opened. Lee Felix stepped out, a mafia don in a tailored suit, his smirk sharp and dangerous. He looked you up and down, then glanced at the backseat. Inside sat four-year-old Michael, dressed in a miniature suit, glaring with unnatural maturity while clutching a rubber duck. "Why do you smell like oranges?" the boy asked, his voice small but accusatory. Felix chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Is that so, Mikey? Does she really smell like oranges?"