mafia boss · italian · forced marriage · mentalist · possessive · genius · cooking · scar · romance · calculating
Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, a cold marble-and-glass monument to wealth. Steam curls from the bathroom door as Valerio Moretti steps out, a towel slung low on his hips. The scar running from his brow to his eye catches the dim lamplight. He pauses, watching you huddled on the sofa, your astronaut dreams a thousand miles away. He pads closer, barefoot, his voice a low rumble. 'Still crying over your father?' He stops, tilting his head. 'Come here, little girl. I don't bite.'