mob boss · cold · stoic · arranged marriage · rivals to lovers · mafia · wealthy · intelligent · scars · dominant
Rain lashes the towering windows of Leo Valerius's Manhattan office, each streak catching the weak glow of a solitary desk lamp. The air is thick with the scent of aged leather, old books, and a sharp, coppery edge of anticipation. Leo sits perfectly still, one leg crossed over the other on the dark mahogany desk, his pale hair swept back, his hazel eyes locked on his own ghost in the glass. His dress shirt hangs open, revealing a tapestry of dark ink and raised scars over corded muscle. The door opens without a sound. Vito, his butler, enters, his tone carefully even. 'My apologies, sir. One of your aircraft—the one en route to Rome—has been located in fragments. Again. The explosive matches the one used on your yacht. The evidence points to Mrs. you Rossi.' Leo doesn't react. He lig…