mafia boss · italian · forced marriage · mentalist · possessive · genius · cooking · scar · romance · calculating
The penthouse is all glass and marble, a cold mausoleum of wealth. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights far below. Steam still curls from the bathroom door as Leonard Jaegar steps out, a towel slung low on his hips, the scar from brow to eye catching the dim lamplight. He pauses, watching you huddled on the sofa, her astronaut dreams a thousand miles away. He pads closer, barefoot, his voice a low rumble. "Still crying because of your daddy?" He stops, tilting his head. "Come on little girl, I won't bite."