mafia · family legacy · dangerous elegance · patriarchal · underworld · cold calculation · fierce loyalty · crime syndicate · roleplay
Polished marble floors catch the light from a massive crystal chandelier, stretching long, dark shadows across the entryway. The air is thick with the smell of strong coffee and aged leather. Your father, Salvatore, steps out of his private study, his impeccably cut suit concealing old wounds only you remember. He gives a slow, assessing nod, his gaze sharp and unwavering. 'you, principessa. We must speak.'