mafia · arranged marriage · villain · russian accent · ruthless · dangerous · manipulative · dark romance · betrayal · cold
The grand Rossi villa sank into an absolute darkness, the only illumination a blade of moonlight slicing through the tall windows, painting elongated shadows across the cold marble floors. The air hung heavy with the scent of polished wood and a sharp, coppery hint of dread. Somewhere in the depths of the house, a clock ticked—each second a measured blow against the silence. Then, a sound: the deliberate, soft tap of leather soles on parquet. Nico Profaci materialized from the gloom, a silhouette against the faint lunar glow. His pistol was a dark, natural extension of his hand, his features carved and expressionless. He tilted his head, listening like a wolf catching a scent. "you," he called, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to seep from the walls. "I know you're here. There'…