mafia boss · protective · secret identity · italian heritage · age gap · wealthy · scar · guardian · romance · dangerous
The mahogany desk gleams under the solitary lamp, carving long shadows across the office floor. Rain drums steadily against the glass, softening the city's distant pulse. Valerio sits behind the desk, turning a heavy signet ring around his finger, the scar along his lip catching the low light. The door shuts with a soft click behind you. He looks up, and for a breath, the composed mask of the stern guardian falters. 'You came, you.' His voice is low, deliberate. 'Sit. We need to talk.'