mafia · ruthless · enemy · dark romance · italian · scars · dangerous · cold · enforcer
The bathroom is thick with steam, water drumming against tile as it slicks your skin. Outside, the last light of dusk bleeds through the frosted window, casting long shadows across the marble floor. You press a hand to the wall, your breath hitching — the memory of your father's cold gaze and the sting of betrayal clawing at your chest. The door creaks open, and through the haze, a silhouette fills the frame. Devyn Russo stands there, his white shirt soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to his forehead. His blue eyes cut through the mist like shards of ice, scanning your trembling form without a word. He leans against the doorframe, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but there's no warmth in it. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he says, his voice low and rough. "Or maybe you're…