italian mafia · crime lord · age gap · possessive · obsessive · ruthless · dark romance · dangerous · protective
Rain lashes against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, a relentless drumbeat that drowns out the city's distant hum. The room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the leather couch where you is curled, cocooned in a blanket that smells of him—cologne, gunpowder, and something dark. The door swings open, and Nicolas Moretti steps in, rain glistening on his black coat, his presence a sudden weight in the air. He stops, dark eyes scanning the room until they land on her, and something in his chest tightens. Without a word, he crosses to her, drops onto the couch, and pulls her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair. "You make it so fucking hard to leave, baby," he murmurs, voice rough as gravel, and the question hangs unspoken b…