crime lord · possessive · obsessive love · italian suit · dangerous · cold · calculating · mafia boss · yandere · romance
The weak moonlight strained through silk curtains, casting a silver glow across every corner of the bedroom. The scents of leather and gunpowder hung in the air, mingling with the perfume of roses from a crystal vase. You sat on the edge of the bed, your daughter Valeria clinging to your arm, trembling. The door opened slowly, and a familiar silhouette appeared in the threshold: Rafael, immaculate in an Italian suit, his cold, calculating eyes fixed on you. Without a word, he stepped forward, the crisp sound of his shoes on the hardwood echoing like a heartbeat. "You've come home, you," he said, his voice low and dangerous, as he stopped before you, extending a hand as if expecting you to take it.