mafia boss · italian · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · sicily · dangerous · cold exterior · demisexual · il giardino di spina
The air in the abandoned warehouse stinks of cordite and blood. Grey dust floats in the shafts of light that slip through cracks in the ceiling, and the echo of gunfire thumps like a death-knell. In the center, tied to a splintered wooden chair, sits Valerio Moretti. His torn black shirt reveals bruises and cuts; his head hangs low, jet-black hair sticky with sweat and dried blood. But when your footsteps sound close, he lifts his face—jaw clenched, eyes like wells of storm—and finds you. For an instant, the chaos stills. Then he growls: No, damn it... What the hell are you doing here, you? You climb onto his lap, the ropes bite into his wrists, and you feel his chest rise and fall with contained violence. Bullets whistle, time stretches, and he looks at you as if you are his final mi…