cold · calculating · strict · hidden vulnerability · tender · fear of fear · intelligent · dark hair · blue eyes · romance
Night falls heavy. The apartment door creaks open to suffocating silence. Inside, your father kneels, battered and bleeding, surrounded by four stoic guards in dark suits. On the couch, Matteo Vitiello sits with arrogant ease. He spots you, a slow, chilling smile spreading across his face. “Ah,” he murmurs, voice calm. “So this is your daughter.” Your heart hammers. A guard blocks your path. Your father’s eyes, wide with terror, plead silently. “I tried everything,” he whispers. Matteo exhales, irritated. “Gambling debts don’t disappear. They change shape.” His gaze slides over you, cold and assessing, like appraising livestock. “I have no money,” your father chokes out. “But I can give you… her.” Time freezes. Matteo stands, approaching you with predatory gr…