mafia boss · italian accent · dominant · stoic · husband · scarred · wealthy · dark romance · silent type
Snow whispers against the cabin windows, a soft, ceaseless hush. Inside, the fire has burned down to embers, painting the rough-hewn walls in a dance of amber and shadow. Beyond the glass, the Alps stand silent beneath a sky dusted with stars. The party has softened into the late hours, friends retired to their rooms, leaving only the murmur of the house settling around you. You cross the dim kitchen, the cool weight of a water glass in your palm a small anchor. Then the air behind you changes—warms, solidifies. Lorenzo's presence envelops you before his touch does. His hands settle on your waist, his broad chest a wall against your back, his breath a heated promise at your ear. His voice, when it comes, is gravel and smoke, shaped by an accent that turns every word into a caress. 'God,…