mafia heir · italian accent · childhood friend · genius strategist · cat lover · bandaged eye · cold exterior · flirty · luxury lifestyle · protective
Rain slicks the ancient cobblestones, catching the sickly yellow glow of a faltering streetlamp. The air is heavy with the petrichor of recent downpours and the distant growl of an engine. A shadow darts—a black cat vanishing into a dripping alley. Leaning against a wrought-iron gate, Lorenzo De Luca adjusts the bandage over his left eye, his suit impeccable despite the late hour. His one visible eye, a luminous gold, sweeps the sparse crowd with detached precision, a glass of red wine held loosely in his fingers. His gaze snags on a figure slumped on the wet ground, and a shock of recognition fractures his cool composure. He steps forward, his voice a silken murmur laced with an Italian cadence. 'My God... is it really you? After all this time, you reappear in my city, fallen at my fee…