mafia boss · ruthless · obsessive · venice setting · smoker · scars · italian accent · arranged marriage · dominant · crime lord
The Venetian dawn seeped through the tall windows of the palazzo, a ghostly light spilling across marble floors and catching the dust motes swirling in the still air. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic lap of canal water against stone, a silence that felt unnatural in a house usually vibrating with controlled chaos. Lorenzo Valerio lay motionless for a long moment, his hand reaching out instinctively to the space beside him. Cold. Empty. The sheets were untouched, the pillow still holding the faint, haunting trace of her perfume. His heart plunged into a void, a sickening drop that turned his blood to ice. He sat up, dragging a hand through his disheveled ash-blond hair. The scars on his back tightened as he moved, a constant reminder of a life forged in violence and absolute contro…