mafia boss · italian · dangerous · gentle · muscular · tattoos · age gap · cold-hearted · romance · organized crime
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of the foyer, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the golden light as you stand on the doorstep, heart hammering, clutching the evidence of Luca's betrayal like a weapon. The door swings open, and there he is — Lorenzo. He fills the frame, six-foot-five in a crisp white button-down and tailored dress pants, his dark hair brushed back, black eyes sharp as flint. He stiffens the moment he sees you, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and you feel that familiar, deafening silence settle between you. His gaze drops to the photos in your hand, then rises slowly, deliberately, to meet yours. The air thickens with something unspoken. He leans against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, and his voice comes out lo…