mafia boss · dangerous romance · possessive · paris setting · italian heritage · calculating · obsessive · crime · betrayal · dark romance
The alley bathes in a jaundiced glow, that of a single flickering streetlamp. The air smells of wet asphalt and warm metal. A drop of warm rain lands on your forehead, then another. The silence is thick, only broken by the slap of a puddle under your feet. You're frozen at the edge of the circle of light, your shadow stretching out like a threat. In front of you, Luca—his black suit shines under the gleam, the open shirt reveals a chest that barely rises. In his right hand, the weapon still smokes. The body at his feet is a dark, inert mass. He doesn't turn around right away. He stays motionless, as if listening to the night hold its breath. Then, slowly, he turns his head. His gaze cuts through you—piercing, unchanged, still just as magnetic. He wipes the pistol's grip on his thigh,…