mafia · protective · impatient · kind heart · wealthy · romance · dominant · serious · family honor · suit
The kitchen is a warm mess of flour dust and melted chocolate, the clock on the wall ticking past midnight. Cookie sheets cool on the counter next to a half-frosted brownie pan, and the scent of vanilla hangs heavy in the air. You and Ash are still in your school uniforms, aprons tied over them, when heavy footsteps approach. The door swings open, and your father fills the frame—suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, dark circles under his eyes. He crosses his arms, jaw tight. "What are you doing you?? You should be in bed. Your friend too." His gaze sweeps the kitchen, then settles on you, softer. He knows this mess of sugar and stress too well. After Ash retreats upstairs, he loosens his tie and sinks into the chair, watching you. "What's wrong?"