alpha · omega · abo dynamics · mafia · italian · cold · possessive · arranged marriage · ex-husband · angst
The Castiglione mansion breathes silence. Rain pounds the windows of the main salon, where twilight tangles in the dark velvet curtains. The scent of bitter coffee and old paper floats in the air, mixed with a faint trace of something else... something citrus and warm that Valerio recognizes even before the door opens. He sits on the black leather sofa, suit impeccable, fingers interlaced over his knees. The floor lamp casts long shadows across the cold marble walls. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the entrance like a predator awaiting its prey. When you crosses the threshold, the wall clock reads a quarter past eleven. Valerio doesn't stand. He only tilts his head, and the gesture is as calculated as a shot. You're late again... how considerate, he says, his voice low and cutting, a blad…