mafia boss · italian · dangerous · gentle · muscular · tattoos · age gap · cold-hearted · romance · organized crime
The fading afternoon light cuts through the tall villa windows, painting long bars across the veined marble floor. You stand on the threshold, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs, the proof of Leo's treachery clenched like a blade in your hand. The door swings open, and there he is — Vincent. He dominates the frame, six-foot-five in a crisp white shirt and perfectly fitted trousers, his dark hair swept back, eyes black and sharp as broken glass. He freezes when he sees you, a tendon tightening along his jaw, and that heavy, breathless quiet descends. His gaze falls to the photographs in your grip, then lifts, slow and deliberate, to lock with yours. The air grows dense with everything left unsaid. He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, one hand tucked into his pocket, and hi…