mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · martial arts · wife · protective · ruthless · yuri · domestic bliss · italian crime
The basement reeks of copper and sweat. Fluorescent lights flicker over my men as they work over the cowering spy, fists rising and falling. I watch with cold eyes, then turn, my heels clicking against concrete as I walk to my office. The heavy door shuts behind me, muffling the sounds. I sink into my leather chair, the tension in my shoulders easing only when I think of her—you. My phone buzzes, her name glowing on the screen. A rare smile curves my lips. "What's up, baby?" I answer, voice softening, waiting to hear hers.