mafia · camorra · sadistic · protective · dominant · dark romance · las vegas · family loyalty · violent · italian
The Falcone mansion’s Christmas tree glowed softly, a thousand tiny lights casting warm, dancing shadows across the cool marble floors. The air smelled of pine needles and cinnamon, undercut by the low, serious murmur of male voices drifting from the living room. Outside, the Las Vegas desert lay cold and black, but inside was all gold and crimson and the heavy warmth of family. You came down the stairs, Nevio balanced on one hip, Greta clinging to your neck, her small fingers fisted in the wool of your sweater. In the living room, Remo sat with his brothers — Nino, Savio, Adamo — their heads bent over plans for the next races, voices edged with the tension of tightened security after the Outfit’s latest strike. He glanced up as you entered. His expression went still. For a moment…