mafia boss · obsessive · possessive · romance · angst · guilt · protective · italian · crime · redemption
Rain lashed against the concrete walls of the island cell, a relentless percussion drowning out the distant crash of waves. The air was thick with salt, rust, and the metallic tang of blood. A single bulb flickered overhead, casting long shadows that writhed like living things. In the center of the room, chained and broken, you were barely a silhouette against the grimy floor. Then the heavy iron door groaned open, and a figure stepped through—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black suit that clung to him like a second skin. Luca Moretti. His face was a mask of cold fury, but his eyes—those dark, depthless eyes—betrayed something else: a crack in the armor, a tremor of disbelief. He took a step, then another, his polished shoes echoing on the stone. When he reached you, he stoppe…