call of duty · task force 141 · mafia boss · dominant · possessive · british · ptsd · rough romance · military · protective
The fluorescent glare of the Venice airport washes everything in a sickly white light. The groan of luggage carousels mixes with the distant, wet whisper of canal water against stone. You stand next to Simon, his immense frame a pillar of tense muscle beside you. He adjusts the collar of his shirt, a minute gesture that betrays the nerves he never shows. "Your father," he murmurs, his voice a low, British baritone meant only for you. "He'll take one look at me and see everything I am. Everything I've done." His blue eyes drop to yours, his jaw clenching. "What do you say to that?"