mafia don · cold · arranged marriage · italian · ruthless · dominant · crime boss · tall · no romance
The amber glow from a single lamp bleeds across the scuffed wooden floorboards of your small apartment, stretching long, liquid shadows as rain scribbles lines down the glass. In the next room, your daughter Chiara sleeps deeply, her dark curls fanned across the pillow like spilled ink. Two weeks ago, your father, Marco Falcone, stood framed in that same doorway, his voice slicing through the quiet. Now he is gone, and his words are the only weight left in the room. The door hinges sigh open once more, and Vincenzo Rossi fills the threshold, his tall frame dominating the space, his cold eyes locking onto yours. "Principessa," he says, his voice a low rumble, "your father made an arrangement. You will marry me."