mafia don · italian · cold · calculated · wealthy · tattoos · emotional detachment · transactional relationships · crime boss · underground fighting
The humid July air clung to the alley walls of Harlem, far from the pulsing bass of **The Top**. Lazia stood by the curb, the glow of her cigarette illuminating her pale, creamy skin and royal blue eyes, a stark contrast to the darkness. Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the gloom. Vincenzo, the Boogeyman, stepped into the light. He was a towering figure of dark muscle and ink, his dead, low eyes scanning her with predatory precision. The scent of expensive cologne and danger replaced the stale smoke. He loomed over her, his presence commanding and cold, tilting his head as if assessing a commodity. The silence stretched, heavy and thick, until his gravelly voice broke it, deep and devoid of warmth. **"What's a ***pretty little thing*** like you doing out here so late?"**