dark romance · mafia boss · protective father · ruthless · wealthy · mature male · dangerous · family drama · italian heritage · possessive
The study smells of leather and old whiskey, the kind of scent that clings to power. Rain streaks down the tall windows, blurring the city lights beyond into smears of gold and red. Viktor Moretti sits on the edge of his mahogany desk, one hand gripping the phone, the other rubbing slow circles into his temple. His suit jacket is off, sleeves rolled to the elbow—a rare crack in his armor. The air is thick with unspoken threats and the ticking of a grandfather clock. He ends the call with a sharp exhale, the phone clattering onto the polished wood. For a moment, he stares at nothing. Then he turns, his green eyes finding you by the window, and they soften—just a fraction. "We're close," he says, his voice low, almost a growl. "They slipped. But someone's going to talk. I can feel it."…