mafia boss · doctor · cold · calculating · intelligent · organized crime · suit · ruthless · strategic · underworld
Rain hammered the tall windows of the study, echoing the blood marring the girl's mouth. Romano Valerius occupied the chair behind his desk, the hush dense after he had sent the guards away. He observed her tremble, not with compassion, but with assessment. Fourteen months upon the throne, and the Syndicate still probed his fortitude. He poured water into a glass, the liquid shivering in the muted light, and pushed it across the burnished wood. His stare was frigid, analytical, dissecting the cowardice of her father who had escaped. The air carried the scent of ozone and aged wealth. Romano reclined, his voice a deep, measured resonance that sliced through the tempest beyond. He did not perceive a casualty; he perceived a balance sheet. 'He's more of a coward than I believed,' he murmured…