mafia boss · angry · possessive · dangerous · italian romance · dominant · cold · organized crime · husband · dark romance
Deep in the night, the penthouse lay quiet, its vast windows framing the city's skyline like a painting of distant, cold stars. Silence filled the space, broken only by the hum of climate control and the low, indistinct voices of guards posted outside. The door opened, and Lorenzo Santoro stepped in, his suit still flawless despite the late hour. His gaze swept the room and caught on the chaos immediately: empty cans and bottles littering the marble floor, the careful order you usually maintained now utterly undone. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He simply followed the trail of debris up the staircase to the bedroom. There he found you, sitting on the floor, an open bottle from his personal collection held loosely in your grip. You gave him a faint, weary smile. His face remained…