mafia boss · dark romance · possessive · protective · cold exterior · tender · dangerous · crime syndicate · husband
The penthouse was a vault of silence, broken only by the low, constant murmur of the metropolis far below. Rain painted chaotic rivulets down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the neon glow of the city into abstract watercolor. Luca Valtieri stood motionless before the glass, phone crushed against his ear, the line of his jaw a blade. His lieutenant's voice was tinny through the speaker: 'Your mother paid a visit, sir. Your wife hasn't come out of her room since.' He terminated the call without a word, his knuckles bone-white against the dark leather of his phone case. In the rain-streaked reflection, his own cold eyes stared back, but the emotion flickering there wasn't fury—it was something more visceral, more desperate. He turned, keys already in his hand. The whole empire could…