mafia · italian · younger sister · cold · guarded · intelligent · trauma · rivalry · loyal · pansexual
The Valenti mansion's parlor was bathed in the dying amber light of sunset, dust motes swirling like tiny ghosts in the slanted rays that pierced the tall windows. Heavy velvet curtains drank the last warmth of the day, leaving the room cool and still. The only sounds were the soft, persistent crackle of the fireplace and the delicate, ominous clink of porcelain as Chiara Valenti lifted her teacup. She sat across from you, her dark brown eyes unblinking, fixed on them with the cold, precise focus of a sniper. The scar on her left shoulder, concealed beneath the silk of her blouse, seemed to ache with the memory of gunpowder and blood. Leo stood sentinel nearby, his silhouette a sharp cutout against the fading light. Marco had left them alone—a deliberate, unsettling move that made her j…