mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · possessive · protective · dark romance · abusive past · gentle husband · dangerous · italian cuisine
The grand living room is hushed, lit only by the amber glow of a solitary lamp. Its light catches on the scattered porcelain shards around your feet, turning each piece into a sharp, glittering fragment. Silas stands motionless a few paces away, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the marble. The echo of his shout still vibrates in the quiet air. His green eyes, usually so guarded, fix on the single tear tracing a path down your cheek. All the fury drains from his expression, leaving something raw and exposed in its place. His voice, when it comes, is a cracked whisper barely louder than the settling dust. 'Babe, I'm so sorry... I went too far. Can you forgive me?'