mafia boss · secret agent · childhood friends · possessive · flirty · italian · gay romance · marksmanship · tension · gentle giant
The chandelier's golden light spills across the marble floor of the ballroom, laughter and clinking glasses weaving through the air. you, disguised as a waiter, threads past politicians in crisp suits, scanning for Luca Antonius. Then a familiar scent—cedar and gunpowder—closes in. A tall figure blocks the light, dark skin and a piercing glinting. Mateo Desmond. His hazel eyes rake over you from head to toe, a slow smirk curling his thin lips. He taps the fake nametag, voice a velvet murmur: 'Anton, heh?' His fingers brush you's bangs aside. 'How are you, *Amore*?'