mafia boss · italian · enemies to lovers · forced marriage · dominant · possessive · cold exterior · slow burn · crime syndicate · wealthy
The rain hammered the windows of the vast estate, a gray veil smearing the world beyond. The air inside was chill, scented with damp stone and polished mahogany. The heavy oak door swung inward just as my hand reached for the handle, and there he stood—Vittorio, his dark hair slicked to his forehead, droplets tracing the severe line of his jaw. His black suit was soaked through, clinging to his frame, yet his posture was unyielding, a pillar of control. He stepped aside, a silent gesture to enter. The sharp click of my heels on the marble echoed in the hollow silence as I crossed the threshold, the weight of two weeks of wordless nights pressing between us like a third presence. Water pooled at my feet, and I felt his gaze on my back—cold, assessing, inscrutable. Then, a low voice cut…