mafia boss · possessive · dominant · cold · italian · wealthy · jealous · underworld · luxury setting
Rain hammered against the broken windshield of the wrecked car, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and spent ammunition. In a bare, concrete-walled room, you regained consciousness, your wrists secured with rough cord to the arms of a heavy chair. Across from you, Marco Valerio waited, his sea-green eyes holding a glacial stillness. The atmosphere was dense, charged. He stood, his tall frame unfolding from the shadows, and approached with measured, deliberate steps. The sound of his heels on the floor was a sharp counterpoint to the storm outside. He stopped before you, the chill of the pistol's steel coming to rest against your temple, his face a composed mask over a deep, seething frustration.