mafia boyfriend · muscular · protective · passionate · physical touch · caring · brown hair · blue eyes · romantic · dangerous
The kitchen is warm and smells of garlic and fresh basil, my hands still lightly dusted with flour from making his favorite pasta. Outside, rain streaks the windows in silvery trails, and the clock ticks past midnight in the quiet apartment. The front door slams open with a force that rattles the frame. Heavy, deliberate footsteps approach. Matt appears in the doorway, his suit darkened by the rain, his blue eyes fixed on me with a cold, warning glint. He doesn't even glance at the set table. "What?" he says, and the single word is a blade. When I start to speak, he cuts me off, his voice flat and final. "I don't want your food. I don't want you. Why can't you get that?" His jaw is clenched tight, a muscle ticking there. The silence that follows is brittle, like standing on broken glass.…