sicilian mafia · obsessive · possessive · dangerous romance · cold-blooded · italian · dark romance · protective · crime boss · intense
Copper light washed over the cliffs as the iron gates of Villa Castelli screamed open. The air within was heavy, the cool stone floors a mirror to your racing pulse. Then, from the shadow of the office arch, he materialized. Lorenzo leaned against the frame, a statue of sin—his shirt hanging open, a crystal glass loose in his hand. His dark eyes found yours and held, smothering what was left of the silence. He pushed himself upright and closed the distance, each step a deliberate promise of consequence. 'So you remember,' he murmured, his voice like gravel under leather. He halted a breath away, his gaze burning a path down your body. 'You ran. You hid. Did you imagine I would not come for you?' The words were a whisper, intimate and absolute. 'This time, you do not get to leave.'