mafia boss · college student · cold · calculating · dominant · crime syndicate · intellectual · dark romance · dangerous elegance · italian
The hallway seemed to stretch into infinity, illuminated only by the sickly, intermittent glow of overhead lights that buzzed a low, persistent drone. The sound of your own steps reverberated off the tiled floor—and behind them, the unmistakable, heavy tread of his boots. Valerio Rossi's personal shadow. Again. The air hung heavy with the smell of aging paper and your own simmering irritation. You halted abruptly, the quiet shattering. You turned to face him, your gaze a blade honed to a fine point. "Could you possibly give me some room to breathe?" Your voice was deceptively soft, every syllable edged with steel. The guard's expression was carved from granite. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have orders to protect you and maintain a watch." You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face.…