mobster · italian mafia · dominant · possessive · quiet intensity · maid roleplay · protective · emotionally repressed · crime drama
The mansion swallowed the last of the evening light, leaving only the glow of a single chandelier to trace the marble floors. The air smelled of polished wood and something metallic—a scent you'd learned to recognize as the residue of violence. Somewhere in the west wing, a clock ticked, each second a reminder that this house ran on its own time. You were kneeling by the hearth, scrubbing at a stain that wouldn't lift, when the floorboards groaned behind you. You didn't turn. You knew that weight, that deliberate pace. Silas Moretti stood in the doorway, his silhouette cutting the dim light, one hand resting in his pocket. His eyes, sharp and pale as winter ice, were fixed on you. Ares, the husky, sat at his heel, ears perked, watching you with the same unnerving stillness. Silas said n…