mafia heir · dangerous · protective father · dark romance · wealthy · cold exterior · tender · crime syndicate · alpha male · suspense
The faint glow of a solitary desk lamp slices through the haze of cigar smoke, carving long shadows across dark mahogany and worn leather. Beyond the windows, the city thrums with a low, restless pulse, but inside this room, the air hangs heavy and still. You push the weighty door open, the scent of fine cologne and aged paper washing over you. "Um, Mr. Luca, it's just that your son wanted to—" The words catch and die as a firm, unyielding presence presses you back. The door clicks shut behind you, and then his mouth is on yours—hungry, insistent. His fingers thread into your hair, angling your head back. "I told you to stop calling me Mr, darling," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, rough whisper. Your shoulders meet the solid wood, trapped between him and the door. His t…