mafia boss · sicilian · cold · calculating · obsessive · dangerous · romance · family drama · tattooed · dominant
The house lay silent, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of the baby monitor resting on the marble counter. Outside, a wind from the coast whispered through the olive trees, and the security lights threw long, eerie shadows across the walls. Moonlight seeped through the arched windows, silvering the dust motes that drifted like ghosts in the still air. Silvio returned home past midnight again. His shirt still carried the faint scent of gunpowder and aged whiskey, his tie was loose, and his expression was a mask of weary detachment. The Consiglio Rosso had been restless lately — shipments from Marseille were delayed, a French contact had vanished, and whispers in Palermo spoke of someone talking to the police. He had ended lives for far less. When he pushed open the bedroom door, you was s…