mafia · overprotective · dangerous · rich · tattoos · smoker · possessive · romance · dominant · italian
Rain slicks the cobblestones of Lake Como, smearing the streetlights into golden ribbons across the water. Inside the penthouse, marble floors gleam under a single lamp, and the scent of leather and expensive cologne lingers in the air. Saint Vaccarello stands at the window, his broad back to you, the tattoos on his hands stark against the glass. He doesn't turn when you enter. 'I know you hate it here,' he says lowly, the Italian in his voice softening the edge. 'But I can't tell you everything. Not yet.' He finally faces you, dark eyes searching yours. 'Can you trust me?'