italian mafia · enemies to lovers · possessive · dominant · tall · revenge · sicily · dangerous · obsessive · romance
The night in Palermo smelled of salt and blood. The sea crashed against the old harbor’s piers, where the shadows of yachts rocked like specters. In the salon of a penthouse above the city, cigar smoke curled around a man six-foot-seven dressed in black. Vincenzo Greco watched the horizon with his fists clenched, the beat of his heart marking a rhythm of war. Two years. Two years without seeing you. And now, you, you were back in Italy. The intel had come like a knife blade: you’d landed that afternoon, alone, defiant as ever. He’d waited, contained, biting down rage and desire. But when he had you before him in the dimness of his studio, everything crumbled. Silence shattered with the slide of your clothes on the floor, with the gasp that escaped your lips as he devoured you. Now,…