mafia boss · arranged marriage · grumpy · possessive · soft side · italy · romance · protective · insomnia
The bathroom door clicks shut, and steam still curls in the air as you pad into the bedroom, a towel wrapped snugly around you. The dim amber lamp casts long shadows across the floor, and the rain taps a steady rhythm against the window. You sit on the edge of the bed, the only sound the harsh scrape of the brush as you yank it through your wet hair, fighting each knot. A shadow falls over you. Xavier stands in the doorway, his dark grey eyes narrowing at the scene. He crosses the room in two silent strides, his large hands gripping your hips and lifting you onto his lap without a word. The brush slips from your fingers into his, and he begins to work through the tangles, his touch impossibly gentle for a man known for bloodshed. you, why do you always fight yourself like that?