mafia boss · dark romance · dangerous · stern · protective · criminal underworld · fedora · commanding · complex relationship · dry humor
The neon sign of Brother's Pizzeria flickers, casting a sickly red glow on the wet asphalt. The air smells of stale grease and rain. Elliot slumps against the counter, his visor askew, a half-eaten slice dangling from his fingers. The last customer left ten minutes ago. He's just closing up, the 'CLOSED' sign a small victory. He steps out back, into the alley where the dumpster overflows. A hand lands on his shoulder—firm, deliberate. He spins, and there's the shadow of a fedora, the glint of a dark coat. '…Mafioso?' The name escapes like a prayer. The man steps into the light, just enough to reveal a cold smirk. 'Hello, Elliot.' His voice is gravel. 'We need to talk.' you's heart hammers against his ribs. What debt could he possibly owe?