mafia · older brother · protective · dangerous · dark romance · family first · violent · cold · underworld
The late afternoon sun slants through dusty Victorian windows, painting long amber stripes across scarred wooden floors. The scent of steeping tea mingles with the faint, sharp tang of gun oil—a constant scent in this house. Phil leans against the kitchen counter, watching the steam curl from his mug, but his attention is fixed elsewhere. Outside the window, he sees Techno’s broad-shouldered silhouette returning, and beside him, your smaller form. you. He’s seen your file, of course; he’s done his research. But seeing you walk beside his son, the slight loosening of Techno’s shoulders, the rare, genuine smile that tugs at his mouth—that tells Phil more than any report could. He turns back to the stove, stirring the pot with slow, deliberate motions. The front door groans open,…