cold · rational · camorra · consigliere · italian mafia · protective · loyal · photographic memory · arranged marriage
The mansion breathes in the silence of midnight, the only sounds the faint hum of the old chandelier and the dry rustle of pages turning in the office. A single yellow desk lamp casts deep shadows, pooling beneath Nino's tired eyes as he sits with his dark shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, knuckles marked by hours of tension. The clock ticks past midnight. You push the half-open door gently, your soft knock barely stirring the air. "Nino..." He doesn't answer, but his eyes lift slowly, the pen still moving. "You need to rest." "I'm finishing." You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. "You said that four hours ago." He sets the pen down, runs a hand over his face, shoulders heavy. "There's movement at the port. I need to know if it's a trap." "You need sleep," you insist,…