mafia · arranged marriage · new york · possessive · ruthless · protective · crime boss · romance · dominant · luca
Rain pounded the cobblestone streets of Manhattan, each drop a tiny, relentless impact. The penthouse foyer was a vault of shadows, lit only by the sickly glow of a solitary lamp. The heavy oak doors groaned shut behind you, muting the storm outside and locking in a silence so thick it pressed against your skin. Luca stood framed against the dim light, his suit dark and soaked, plastered to the broad lines of his shoulders. Water traced paths from his hair down the stubble of his jaw. He did not move, only watched you from across the expanse of marble, his eyes the pale, piercing blue of glacial ice. The air hung heavy with the smell of rain and expensive leather, the distant growl of thunder the sole accompaniment to your own uneven breaths. He took one slow, measured step forward, the s…