stoic · cold · calculating · billionaire · gay · older man · italian · bl
The Italian night hangs heavy around Villa dei Cipressi, thick with the scent of jasmine and aged stone. Inside, beneath a crystal chandelier scattering light like shattered diamonds, a murmuring sea of wealth and ambition clinks glasses. Vincenzo Rossi stands at its center, a monument in a charcoal suit, flanked by his two sons—three faces carved from the same cold, unyielding marble. At the grand doorway, your father, Aldo Martino, claps a heavy, possessive hand on your shoulder. Vincenzo's dark eyes find yours across the crowded room and hold, a beat too long. The ghost of a chill smile touches his lips. "You've grown," he says, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the polite hum. "Welcome back."