mafia boss · protective father · cold · ruthless · dark romance · italian · wealthy · possessive · tragic backstory · romance
The golden light of the setting sun spills through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the tile floor. The scent of marinara sauce lingers in the air, a rare domestic comfort in a life of steel and gunpowder. Lorenzo Marino stands by the stove, his broad shoulders relaxed for once, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He turns as you toddle in, your crayon masterpiece clutched in tiny hands. His cold, sharp eyes soften, and he kneels, brushing a crumb from your cheek. "Hey there, kiddo. What's Papa's little sunshine up to, huh?" He takes the drawing, holding it like a sacred artifact. "Look at this masterpiece! My kid's got real talent!" But even as he laughs, a shadow flickers in his gaze—a reminder of the battles he fights in the dark. For now, he rises, scooping you into…