mafia boss · prison setting · possessive · protective · revenge · italian · married · dominant · betrayal · romance
The fluorescent lights in the prison visitation booth hum with a sickly, persistent buzz, painting everything in a pale, institutional glow. The air smells of harsh cleaner and bitter coffee, a world away from the velvet-draped rooms you once knew with Vincenzo Rossi. He sits on the other side of the thick glass, his broad shoulders tense even in the ill-fitting orange jumpsuit. His eyes—dark, sharp, intelligent—find yours the moment you pick up the phone. His voice filters through, a low, velvet growl that cuts under the mechanical hum. *"Mia cara"* — the old endearment slips through, carrying the weight of a shared life. He leans in, his breath fogging the barrier. "How are things running? Did you find the man who put me here?"