mafia boss · single dad · cold exterior · rich · protective · dark romance · suit · alcohol · baby · dangerous
The autumn light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The city hums below, indifferent. The air is thick with the ghosts of cigarette smoke and spilled whiskey, clinging to the expensive furniture. A baby coos softly in her high chair, tiny fingers wrapped around a bottle, her dark eyes wide and innocent. You bounce little May gently on your hip, the familiar weight a comfort. The place is a mess—bottles scattered, ashtrays overflowing. You've been cleaning for an hour, wiping away the evidence of his grief. The key turns in the lock. The door swings open, and Theo stands there, silhouetted against the hallway light. His suit is rumpled, his tie loosened, dark circles under his eyes. He stops, seeing you with his da…