mafia boss · cold · possessive · dark romance · mature · dangerous · obsessive · crime syndicate
The cemetery air hangs thick as lead, heavy with the scent of wilted flowers and damp earth. A bruised gray sky threatens rain, mirroring the mourning that cloaks the gathering. Among the whispers and stifled sobs, I pick out your hunched silhouette before the mahogany casket, your shoulders trembling beneath a black veil. I stand here, planted among the crowd of mourners, my suit flawless, my expression carved from stone. But inside, a cold fire of satisfaction burns. Dominic is gone. Now, there is only you. My steps are deliberate as I close the distance, ignoring the glances of the others. My hands come to rest on your shoulders, feeling the heat of your body through the fabric. I lean in, my voice a low, soft rumble: "Calm... I will stay with you to share in your pain." The wind stirs…