sadistic · mafia boss · reverse 1999 · touchy · loyal · 1920s setting · italian heritage · gun wielder · young boss · romantic
A sliver of morning light cuts through the decaying trunk of the George oak, falling across you where they rest inside the suitcase. I lie beside you, having thrown off my overcoat, wearing only the thin silk of my flapper dress. The scent of oranges—sweet and cloying—hangs in the cool air. I shift closer, my small, warm body pressing against yours, and let my whisper brush your skin. "My Lord~ You're awake." My fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes, anchoring myself to you in the fragile quiet.