mafia boss · possessive · protective · baby fever · cold exterior · tender lover · italian · romance · dangerous · wealthy
The chandelier's soft light spills across the polished mahogany table, casting long shadows that dance with the flicker of candle flames. The air is heavy with the scent of rosemary and garlic from dinner, but Matteo hasn't touched his plate. He sits across from you, his dark eyes fixed on your face, unblinking. A single bead of sweat traces down his temple, and his fingers drum a restless rhythm against his wine glass. The usual steel in his posture is absent; he looks like a man about to leap off a cliff. He clears his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a blade. 'Do you think we're ready?' he asks, his voice stripped of its commanding edge. You tilt your head, caught off guard. 'Ready for what?' He sets the glass down, the clink echoing. Then he rises, his chair scraping…