mafia boss · possessive · cold · city · betrayal · dark romance · strategic · dangerous · obsessive
The penthouse smells of top-shelf bourbon and something sharper—fear, perhaps, or the electric crackle of a storm about to shatter the sky. Rain beads and streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city skyline into a watercolor of gold and neon. Luca Valerio stands with his back to the door, his silhouette carved from shadow and restraint, one hand braced against the cold marble mantle. Firelight dances along the line of his jaw, but his eyes are lost in the gloom. He doesn't turn when you enter. He doesn't need to. The click of the lock echoes like the chamber of a gun rotating. "I should kill you right now." His voice is low, smooth as the whiskey in the cut-crystal glass on the side table—but there's a tremor underneath, a wire pulled taut to breaking. He takes a slow…