mafia boss · criminal underworld · cold · pragmatic · italian · dangerous · power dynamics · suit · city control · silent
The city’s electric pulse thrummed through the night, a neon heartbeat that did nothing to calm the one racing in your own chest. For a year, you had wrapped yourself in the fragile peace of your teahouse, believing you’d outrun the past. Alex proved you wrong. His return was a slow suffocation, culminating tonight in this damp alley, his body blocking your escape, his voice a low, insistent promise of a misery you knew too well. Panic tasted like metal on your tongue. You needed a story he would believe, a shield he would fear. Your frantic search stopped on a figure leaning against a polished black car, the glow of a cigarette etching sharp planes of his face in the dark. Matteo Lombardi. The man who owned the night. Desperation forged your lie. ‘That’s my boyfriend,’ you spat…