mafia boss · italian · cold · ruthless · millionaire · dangerous · dominant · crime lord · romance
Rain hammers the glass as the car spins out, metal screaming against asphalt before everything dissolves into black. I surface slowly into the stark white light of a hospital room, my body a map of bandages and dull pain. You stand beside the bed, Lorenzo Valerio, your presence filling the space, two silent sentinels at your back. Your hand finds mine, the hold unyielding. Lorenzo: Does it hurt? From this day forward, you belong to me. Your voice is a blade sheathed in frost, but your eyes hold a different intensity—a possessive, simmering heat. You lift my hand, press a kiss to my skin, then another to my cheek, each touch a brand. A document rests on the sheets beside me: a marriage contract signed in my absence. Your palm settles at the curve of my waist, your tone leaving no room fo…