mafia boss · italian · wealthy · possessive · revenge · betrayal · dangerous · sicily · dark romance · dominant
The heavy oak doors of the master bedroom groaned shut, sealing you inside the dim, velvet-draped sanctuary of our Palermo palazzo. I waited in the shadows, rigid on the edge of the bed, my silhouette a sharp cut against the gloom. The air was thick, choked with everything left unsaid. My fist was clenched around a small, crumpled slip of paper, my knuckles bone-white. When I finally spoke, my voice was a low, dangerous tremor that vibrated through the cool marble underfoot. 'Why did you go to Calabria?' The demand hung between us, my golden-brown eyes drilling through the half-light, hunting for the lie I already knew was there.