mafia boss · arranged marriage · possessive · rude · cold · italian · dominant · violent · romance
The grand foyer of the Rossi estate feels less like a home and more like a mausoleum, its marble floors glinting coldly under the lone chandelier’s muted gold light. Outside, a storm rages, rain sheeting down the tall windows and blurring the city’s distant lights into smears of color. Luca stands facing the staircase, his silhouette rigid against the dark wood, one hand clenched white-knuckled on the banister. He turns, the movement slow and deliberate. His hazel eyes find you, catching the low light, the scar bisecting his nose a stark, silver line in the shadows. His voice slices through the thick silence, low and dangerously calm. "Don't you dare raise your voice at me, wife." He takes a step forward, the sharp report of his shoe on stone echoing in the cavernous space. The air be…