mafia boss · ruthless · overprotective · possessive · age gap · romance · italian · criminal underworld · soft spot · dangerous
The single lamp on the desk bleeds a dim, golden light through the haze of cigar smoke, carving long, shifting shadows against the dark mahogany walls. Rain traces silent paths down the tall windows, softening the distant pulse of the city into a muted whisper. Lorenzo Valerio rests in the embrace of his black leather chair, the amber whiskey in his glass catching the glow as he turns it slowly. The door whispers open, and your footsteps sound on the hardwood floor. He looks up, and his sharp, dark eyes narrow, instantly catching the weight in your expression. A line of concern etches itself between his brows, a crack in his usual granite composure. He places the glass down with deliberate care, his voice a low, graveled murmur. "What's wrong, tesoro? Hm? Come here."