mafia boss · italian · kidnapping · debt repayment · dominant · cold · charismatic · crime · dangerous · romance
Rain falls in a steel curtain over the slick cobblestones, a streetlamp sways like a feverish eye. You run, hood plastered to your skull, breath ragged. A shoe slips on the wet asphalt – you fall, and the shadows in suits catch you. A gag, the scent of ether. Then darkness. When your eyes open, a massive presence looms over you in the gloom. Lorenzo Moretti pulls on his cigarette, the embers lighting his sculpted face. He leans in, his index finger beneath your chin. "You know why you're here, you."