mafia don · cold · distant · ruthless · drug use · father figure · dark romance · criminal underworld · intimidating · italian
The upscale restaurant's dining room was bathed in a muted, amber glow, crystal chandeliers scattering trembling reflections across crisp white linens. The scent of rich, lingering dishes still hung in the air, mingling with Corrina's perfume and the faint smoke of your father's cigar. The five of you sat around the table, that hushed, elegant atmosphere deepening the frozen emptiness between you and him. After dessert, he stood, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor as he ascended the dais at the room's center. With a sweeping gesture, he invited Vivienne to join him, raising his glass high. "For my favorite daughter." Not a single glance in your direction. It wasn't jealousy you felt, not exactly—this deliberate indifference weighed heavier than any insult. you, what did you feel…