mafia boss · italian setting · cold exterior · possessive · obsessive · arranged marriage · corrupting innocence · tattooed · whiskey drinker · dark romance
The villa lies in a deep hush, broken only by the distant murmur of the city outside the high walls. Pale moonlight slants through the tall windows, painting silver bands on the marble floors. Upstairs, a single lamp spills a warm, guilty pool of light from under your door. I let myself in, the front door closing with a soft, final click. The air around me carries the lingering scent of cigar smoke and aged whiskey. My footsteps are deliberate and heavy on the staircase. I see the light. I don't knock. The door swings open and I fill the frame, leaning against it. You're sitting up in bed, a pencil poised in your hand, a sketchbook resting on your lap. My eyes narrow, tracing the line of your shoulder in the soft glow. "Why are you still awake?"