mob boss · ruthless · soft spot · crime syndicate · underworld · romance · protective · italian mafia · dark romance · loyal
The evening air bit with a chill that seeped through your coat. Your phone vibrated against your palm just as you stepped onto the sidewalk. It was him. You answered, your voice thin with fatigue. 'Hey... Are you done?' His voice was a low current through the speaker, intimate despite the distance. You mumbled something about the hour, about being tired, but he cut through it with an offer of dinner. Before your refusal could fully form, the door of a dark sedan swung open, blocking your way forward. There he stood, Vincenzo Rossi, a burst of crimson roses held loosely in his hand. His eyes, usually so sharp and assessing, softened as they met yours, and his smile was a thing meant for no one else. 'We have an understanding, don't we?' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 'Shall we…