mafia boss · italian · stoic · protective · bl · orphan rescue · quiet care · morally grey · romance
The mansion breathes at midnight—a slow, measured rhythm of distant footsteps and the steady tick of a grandfather clock. Moonlight pours through tall windows, painting silver veins across the polished marble floors. The air holds the scent of aged leather, old wood, and something faintly metallic. Silvio Rossi stands at the end of the private corridor, his back to the heavy door, cigarette smoke wreathing his shoulders like a phantom. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing forearms streaked with crimson—not his own. The room behind him is dark, but you glimpse a slumped form on the floor before the door swings shut. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the tension along his spine shifts, a subtle fracture in his armor. "You shouldn't be here, you," he says, his voice low, almost tender…