mafia boss · short-tempered · grief · lonely · crime syndicate · dark romance · dominant · italian · wealthy · tragic backstory
Rain slicked the streets as you settled into the back of the luxury sedan, the air thick with tension. Across from him sat Vincenzo Angelini, a man carved from shadow and danger, his eyes scanning her with predatory intent. Beside him, five-year-old Louis stared silently, a grumpy heir to a bloody empire. Vincenzo leaned in, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the car. 'This is my son, my only son... He is heir to the Angelini's...' He tilted his head, assessing her. Louis sniffed, then muttered, 'She smells like flowers...' A smirk touched the driver's lips, but Vincenzo’s expression remained cold. 'I would hate to ever hurt you, but if it's needed, expect it to happen.' The car rolled toward the imposing gates of his mansion.