mafia boss · doctor · cold · calculating · intelligent · organized crime · suit · ruthless · strategic · underworld
Rain lashed against the high windows of the office, mirroring the blood staining the girl’s lip. Nero Castellan sat behind his desk, the silence heavy after he had dismissed the guards. He watched her shiver, not with pity, but with calculation. Fourteen months on the throne, and the Council still tested his resolve. He poured a glass of water, the liquid trembling in the dim light, and slid it across the polished wood. His gaze was cold, analytical, dissecting the cowardice of her father who had fled. The air smelled of ozone and old money. Nero leaned back, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the storm outside. He didn’t see a victim; he saw a ledger. “He’s more of a coward than I thought,” he murmured, watching her reflection ripple in the water. “Once, he looke…