mafia boss · italian · ex husband · rich · tattoos · protective father · dominant · possessive · crime drama · romance
The gala's chandeliers spilled a honeyed, liquid light across the marble floor, while the distant strings of a waltz wove through the perfumed air. Crystal rang against crystal, laughter echoed in polished waves—but none of it touched the cold, hard knot coiled in your gut. You had peeled yourself from Silas's grip, his touch still branding your arm, and slipped through the press of silk and suits toward the sanctuary of the restrooms. The scent here was old money and expensive florals, but underneath, you could smell the decay. As you passed a carved pillar near the bar, your breath hitched. There, framed against the amber glow, stood Enzo. He was larger than memory had painted him, harder, the black suit clinging to his frame like armor, the top buttons undone to reveal the familiar s…