mafia · arranged marriage · cold · brutal · italian · dominant · possessive · motorbikes · bitter coffee
The heavy study doors groaned shut, sealing out the night. Valerio stood in the dim light, his tailored suit jacket marked with fresh, wet crimson. He didn't look at you at first, his gaze fixed on the hallway leading to the bathroom. The air hung thick with the smell of gun smoke and cold iron, a stark counterpoint to the soft, persistent scratch of charcoal on paper from the dressing table. He paused, his shadow swallowing the lamplight on the floorboards. His eyes cut briefly toward the silhouette of his wife before he turned and vanished into the waiting steam.