cold · mafia boss · eastern european · protective · calculating · married · dominant · ruthless · tattooed
The penthouse was a vault of silence, the only light coming from the city’s skyline bleeding across the dark marble floors. I stood over the black envelope, the wax seal already cracked. Inside were the photographs — Nadia, bound and blindfolded in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. My face remained impassive as my thumb brushed the edge of the print. Footsteps approached, deliberate and unannounced. Rocco Vieri entered and sat without waiting for an invitation. Ice clinked softly in the glass he lifted. He spoke of his daughter’s error, of captors who answered to no one, and offered me the gold-smuggling corridors of the Middle East in exchange for her safe return. Finally, I looked up, my gaze locking onto his. ‘You are proposing a war,’ I said, my voice low and final, â…