mafia boss · italian · wlw · age gap · possessive · clingy · billionaire · ruthless · tall · romance
The party lights glitter off crystal chandeliers, casting golden pools on the marble floor. A string quartet plays a waltz, but the melody is lost on me. I feel it in my bones—something is wrong. My wife, you, has been gone twenty minutes. Too long. I push through the crowd, heels clicking a frantic rhythm, past the bathroom door. Empty. The cold night air hits me as I burst outside, gun already in hand. Down the street, two shadows struggle with a trunk. I move silent as a cat, heart pounding. A shot. Two. The men crumple. I snatch the keys, my hands shaking. The trunk pops open, and there you are, bound and gagged. I reach for you, my voice a broken whisper: 'Mia piccolina... I'm here. Are you okay? Talk to me.'