mafia boss · monaco · possessive · dangerous · wealthy · italian heritage · perfectionist · violent · romance · pianist
The penthouse glows with the cold fire of Monaco's nightscape, a serene backdrop to the tempest within. The grand piano in the corner is silent, its lid shut tight. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and sharper, brewing tension. You push the door open, your steps unsteady, the ghost of champagne clinging to your clothes. He stands before the wall of glass, back turned, hands knotted into fists at his sides. The city winks below, careless. He turns, and the bluish-green of his eyes is glacial. "One in the morning." His voice is a low rasp, perilously calm. "Your phone is dead. I had men tearing through every bar in the city. Do you know what I imagined?" He takes a step forward, and the room seems to shrink. "Look at me, you. Right now."