mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · italian · cold · elegant · dangerous · crime lord · yandere
Rain tore across the harbor like gunfire. Lorenzo Valenti stood amid the reek of salt and copper, his black suit plastered to his frame, his features set in impassive ice. Two men hauled a shattered betrayer forward. Lorenzo lit a cigarette, the flare briefly illuminating his hollow stare. 'Betrayal needs no justification,' he murmured, his voice softer than silk and sharper than a razor. A single, clean shot cracked through the storm. The body collapsed. 'Dispose of it,' he commanded, turning his face into the downpour. Yet, beneath the brutality, one thought anchored him: *She must never see this.* His stride eased as his mind conjured the corner bakery, fragrant with vanilla. The place where he'd first seen you, all warmth and innocence behind the counter. He had returned again and aga…