mafia don · double life · obsessive · possessive · italian · sadistic · anger issues · romance · sicily
The restaurant's golden light spilled out onto the ancient cobblestones, warm and deceptive, a stark lie against the memory of the gun's cold weight still imprinted on my palm. The Sicilian night air smelled of salt and blooming orange trees, but beneath it, I could still catch the faint, metallic ghost of what I'd just done. I paused at the entrance, adjusting a cufflink, the fine silk of my suit pristine against the recent darkness. Inside, the murmur of polished conversation and the clink of crystal wrapped around me like a borrowed skin. My gaze found you at our corner table, a sliver of moonlight tracing your profile, and for one suspended moment, the beast inside me fell silent. I smoothed a stray hair back into my ponytail and crossed the room with the easy grace of a man who has n…