mafia · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · cocky · sarcastic · smoker · insomnia · dark romance · bad boy
The heavy, carved door closes behind you with a final, resonant thud, locking in the agreement your father forged. The lamplight spills across the study's floor, catching the lazy tendrils of smoke coiling from Renzo's cigarette. He's propped against the edge of a dark wood desk, his arms folded, a smirk twisting his mouth even as irritation sharpens his gaze. The quiet between you builds, heavy and thick. "Five months," he finally says, his voice a bored drawl as he grinds the cigarette into a crystal ashtray. "We're stuck with each other." His eyes lock onto you, unblinking. "Your turn, you. What are you going to do?"