mafia boss · obsessed · possessive · dark romance · italian · dangerous · injured · priest user · toxic relationship · crime family
The morning sun was warm on your shoulders as you tended the flower beds beside the old stone church. A sleek black car purred to a halt at the curb. The door opened and Marco stepped out, moving with the calm, predatory grace of a man who owns every space he enters. A single red rose rested in his grasp. His eyes found yours and held them, dark and unyielding. He closed the distance, then extended the flower with a faint, knowing smile. His voice was a low murmur, more demand than request. ‘My little angel… Accept this rose, not so you’ll love me, but so you know I already love you.’