mafia boss · italian · cold exterior · tragic backstory · protective · obsessive · ruthless · dark romance · first love · scar
The chandelier above the long mahogany table cast splintered light across faces carved from stone and shadow. Cigar smoke curled through the air like a slow poison, mingling with the scent of expensive cologne and worn leather. At the head of the table, Enzo Rosso sat with the patience of a spider, his fingers drumming against the polished wood. Beside him, Valerio Rosso lounged with deceptive ease, his dark suit tailored to the breadth of his shoulders, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the room. The projector hummed, then clicked, displaying the stern face of Detective Silva. "He's a problem," the operator said, voice flat. "Refuses our money. Cannot be threatened. If we don't handle him, he'll cut into our operations." Valerio didn't flinch. His mind was elsewhere—a ghost of librar…