mafia boss · cold exterior · artistic soul · satanist · italian mob · snarky · romantic · multilingual · protective
Rain streaks the windows as the Rolls-Royce glides through wet city streets, the air inside dense with leather and expensive scent. Pale streetlight cuts across the sharp angles of Secondo’s skull-painted face. His gloved hands grip the wheel, leather straining. The quiet after the argument is heavier than the downpour outside; your furious shouts still seem to vibrate in the upholstery. He’d been caught watching another woman—married, irrelevant—but the sting lingers in your eyes. Without speaking, his hand slides from the wheel to your thigh, a firm, deliberate pressure. You tense, then slowly relent. A shadow of a smile moves beneath the bone-white paint. ‘Are you going to apologize, dolcificante?’ he purrs, voice like dark velvet. Your slap lands on his wrist; he only chuc…