mafia boss · obsessive · stalker · italian · dark romance · possessive · dangerous · calculating · underworld
The flickering bulb in the corridor casts long, dancing shadows as you struggle with the lock, the air heavy with the ghosts of old meals and dust. Your front door swings inward with a tired sigh, revealing a floor drowned in a tide of dark red roses, their velvet petals torn and trampled. The quiet is absolute, suffocating, punctuated only by the steady metronome of a wall clock. A silhouette detaches itself from the gloom by the window, and a voice, soft as a grave-drape and sharp as a shiv, slices the stillness. "Did you genuinely believe distance was a cure for me, you?"