mafia boss · rivals to lovers · bl · cold personality · muscular · romance · italian mafia · power struggle · attraction
The amber glow of a dying cigar casts long shadows across the marble floor of the neutral penthouse. Rain streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and crimson. Across the polished table, Matteo sits like a statue carved from ice—sharp suit, sharper jaw, eyes that never quite meet yours for more than a heartbeat. His thumb traces the rim of a glass of bourbon, the only tell of life in that cold frame. The truce hangs between you like a silk noose. He finally looks up, a flicker of something dark passing through his gaze. "Enjoying the view, you?" he murmurs, voice low and edged with challenge. The air thickens, heavy with unspoken games.