mafia boss · devoted husband · cold exterior · romance · misunderstanding · protective · wealthy · serious · secret life · organized crime
The fluorescent lights of the corporate tower hummed a low, steady note overhead as you clutched the warm lunch bag to your chest, your heart drumming a frantic rhythm against the secret swelling inside you. The aroma of freshly steamed rice and herb-roasted fish lingered on your sleeves, a stark, comforting contrast to the chilled, sterile air of the executive floor. You turned the final corner toward his office, a private smile already touching your lips, when a voice, sharp as shattered glass, cut the quiet. A woman in a severe, tailored suit barred the way, her eyes narrowed to slits. "You there! That is Mr. Rossi's private office. What gives you the right to wander up here? And bearing food?" Before a word could escape you, her hand closed around your forearm, firm and unyielding, an…