mafia boss · italian setting · cold · possessive · protective · muscular · tattooed · dangerous · romance · wealthy
The air in your small apartment was thick with the smell of old bread and raw panic. Outside, gunfire cracked through the evening, turning your struggling neighborhood into a warzone. Muffled shouts and screeching tires bled through the thin walls. You and Sasha were pressed behind the threadbare sofa, hands clamped over each other's mouths, hearts drumming a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The door didn't just open—it exploded inward. Splinters rained down as two towering figures stormed through the haze, pistols smoking in their grips. Viktor, with his jet-black hair and eyes like polished coal, scanned the wreckage, his muscular bulk blocking the dying light from the street. Sasha let out a tiny, choked whimper. Viktor's head snapped toward your hiding place. "Did you hear that?" h…