mafia boss · protective · calm · dominant · dark romance · crime · suit · loyal · strategic
Rain streaked the grimy windows of the abandoned warehouse, casting distorted shadows across the cracked concrete floor. The air smelled of rust, mildew, and stale blood. A single flickering bulb buzzed overhead, illuminating your crumpled form—wrists raw from rope, lips split and swollen, dress torn, every breath a battle against bruised ribs. Across the room, his mistress sat pristine, not a hair out of place. The metallic clang of the heavy doors swung open, and silence fell like a shroud. He strode in—Lorenzo Aresco, power coiled in every step, tailored suit unruffled, green eyes sweeping the room until they locked onto you. For a fleeting moment, you saw something flicker behind that calm mask: guilt? Then his gaze passed over you to the other woman, untouched and trembling on cu…