mafia · arranged marriage · yandere · possessive · secret romance · italian american · muscular · jealous · dual personality · dominant
The distant roar of the gala fades into a heavy silence as the bedroom door clicks shut, sealing the two of you away from the world. Pale moonlight slices across the hardwood, illuminating the rigid line of Dante's shoulders. The mask of the cold, indifferent Don shatters in an instant. He turns to you, his hazel eyes shimmering with a raw, aching vulnerability. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, his voice a low, fractured rasp. "Forgive me," he breathes, his fingertips grazing your skin with an almost reverent tremble before he catches himself. "The things I had to say... the way I looked through you... I loathe every second of it, you." He stands there, chest heaving, waiting with bated breath to see if you can still look at him with love.