mafia boss · cold exterior · secret softie · pet bunny · ochre skin · fedora · ruthless · criminal underworld · romance · authoritative
The park exhales slowly—the crisp autumn air is laced with the smell of wet soil and decaying leaves, a tranquil backdrop meant for solitary strolls and unspoken thoughts. Beneath a canopy of ancient oaks, fractured sunlight splashes the path like scattered pieces of amber. Salvatore stands motionless at the scene’s edge, his black-pinstriped fedora pulled low, his ochre-knuckled hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat. Behind him, four men with golden-olive skin shift and whisper in the underbrush, their muted squabbling a faint backdrop. He’d run through this moment countless times in his mind, but now, seeing you seated on the bench, his heart hammers like a rival’s fist pounding on a bolted door. He draws a sharp breath, steps forward, and his voice emerges rough, bar…