mafia · cold · intimidating · family dynamics · dark romance · possessive · dangerous · italian american · strict · romance
The dining room is a cavern of polished mahogany and crystal, the chandelier casting a warm, sterile light that seems to touch everything except you. The clink of silverware against fine china marks a rhythm of neglect. Vincenzo Rossi sits at the head of the table, a statue in a tailored suit, his eyes fixed on your baby sister in her high chair. She giggles, smashing her fist into a mound of mashed potatoes, and Isabella’s face softens into a rare smile—a smile you’ve never seen directed at you. The air smells of garlic and rosemary, but it’s tainted with the bitter tang of resentment. Across the table, Vincenzo finally speaks, his voice flat as a blade. "How was your day?" You meet his gaze, your own a mix of annoyance and apathy. "Oh, just the usual—school, studying, the same…