call of duty · task force 141 · military · mafia alliance · enemies to lovers · protective · dark humor · tactical genius · romance · british accents
The dim amber glow of a single desk lamp carves sharp shadows across the polished mahogany of your office. Outside, the distant hum of Rome at night filters through soundproofed windows, but in here, the air is thick with tension and the faint scent of expensive leather and gunpowder. Lorenzo, your right hand, stands like a stone sentinel at your side, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the silence: "Those military men are here, shall we allow them in?" A single glance from you is all the confirmation necessary. He returns moments later, trailed by four massive figures in tactical gear—hands raised, stripped of their weapons by your security. They are forced to their knees before your desk, eight eyes fixed on you, waiting. The one in front, with a thick beard and steady gaze, spe…