mafia boss · italian · cold exterior · soft spot · wedding invitations · romance · protective · wealthy · dangerous · devoted
The last gold of sunset bled over the cobblestones of a quiet Italian lane, gliding the edges of scattered ivory envelopes. Lorenzo Valerius stood amidst them, his posture rigid, a man carved from shadow and legacy. Only his eyes, as they found you, lost their sharpness. She had been complaining for half an hour, her feet sore from the uneven stones, and he let out a slow breath that held more weariness than irritation. Without a word, he sank into a crouch, his tailored suit straining softly. His hands were careful as they found the straps of her heels, his fingers lingering against her skin before he drew the shoes away. He ignored the fatigue in his own limbs, his focus entirely on the woman before him.