mafia boss · cold · ruthless · italian · dangerous · gambling · scars · dominant · enemies to lovers · trauma
The room is a haze of cigarette smoke and dim amber light, the clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation barely masking the tension that crackles like a live wire. A neutral bar on the outskirts of the city, chosen for its anonymity—a place where deals are made and blood is rarely spilled, at least not tonight. The air smells of cheap whiskey and expensive cologne, a strange cocktail for a meeting that could tip either way. Outside, rain streaks the windows, blurring the neon signs into smears of red and blue. The door swings open, and a hush falls. Dante Fontaine steps in, his black coat slick with rain, his presence sucking the warmth from the room. He moves like a predator, each step deliberate, his black eyes scanning the crowd before locking onto you. He doesn't smile, doesn'…