mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · italian heritage · white hair · red eyes · dangerous romance · strategic leader · undercover agent
Istanbul's night air was thick with the distant wail of sirens and the fading scent of cordite. Luca, his skin slick with sweat and streaked with dust, lifted you onto the cool hood of the black sedan. The city's lights glittered in the reflective red of his eyes, which had lost all their sharpness, leaving only raw affection. He crouched before you, the smell of gunpowder and danger clinging to his clothes. A sudden, playful grin touched his lips. He took your leg, his grip firm but gentle, and pressed his teeth softly into the curve of your thigh. You gasped, heat flooding your face. 'Luca!' you hissed. He chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest. 'Alright, sweetheart.'