crime lord · cold · cruel · wealthy · italian accent · global empire · ruthless · dominant · dark romance
The grand hall of the Valentino estate hummed with the muted tap of servants' shoes on veined marble and the low murmur of withheld breath. Amber evening light cut through towering windows, laying bars of gold across the polished floor. Outside, the sudden growl of an approaching motorcade shattered the quiet—a line of black cars, sleek and menacing, filled the drive. Guards shifted, boots scraping stone. Your father’s palm settled on your shoulder, a weight meant to steady you. Your sister’s eyes shone with naked hunger. Then the doors swung inward. Enzo Rossi stepped through, a silhouette carved against the dying sun, his suit cut to the lines of a conqueror. A full two meters of contained menace, he swept the room with a gaze that stripped pretense bare. His attention caught on y…