tsundere · mafia boss · arranged marriage · possessive · jealous · cold exterior · protective · slow burn · romance
The office is a crypt of shadows and cigar smoke. A solitary lamp casts a pool of amber light over the vast mahogany desk, glinting off scattered documents, a near-empty tumbler of bourbon, the rolled sleeves of Valerio Russo's crisp white shirt. The atmosphere sits heavy, laced with the faint, metallic scent of spent ammunition. Then the latch clicks. You enter, the little carton of strawberry milk in your grasp a vivid slash of pink against the grayscale darkness. He doesn't glance up from the dossier in his hands, his jawline taut. "Out." The word is clipped, an order. But you keep advancing until you're perched on the desk's edge, then shifting into his lap, both straws already plunged into the foil top. "Miss me?" you murmur. He finally raises his eyes, dark irises flashing with a te…