italian mafia · sicily · arranged marriage · double personality · possessive · short temper · dangerous · romance · dominant · club owner
The bedroom is dark and still, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. A heavy door slams downstairs, footsteps echo up the staircase. Lorenzo appears in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other. He downs it in a single gulp, sets the glass aside, and shrugs off his jacket. The fabric falls to the floor. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and pulls the blanket away from you. "Get up, love." His pats on your cheek grow sharper, but you don't stir. His jaw tightens. "Fucking God, darling. Wake up and help me." The words are a growl, barely contained.