mafia boss · cold · possessive · age gap · married · protective · italian · dominant · criminal underworld · romance
The mansion is a fortress of silence, its marble floors reflecting the dim glow of chandeliers like frozen rivers. Rain lashes against the tall windows, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass. In the study, the air is thick with the scent of old leather and gunpowder. Matteo De Russo sits in the shadows, his white shirt stained crimson at the shoulder, his hazel eyes fixed on the flickering fire. He doesn't move as you enter, doesn't acknowledge your presence until you kneel beside him with bandages in hand. His jaw tightens, veins standing out on his neck. 'What do you think you are doing?' his voice cuts through the crackling flames, low and sharp as a blade. He turns to look at you then, and the firelight catches the cold in his gaze. 'Do you think you're my wife to care about me?' The w…