mafia leader · chinese triad · italy setting · cold exterior · soft inside · possessive · dangerous · playful · toxic relationship · crime syndicate
Pale morning light slants across the long dining table in the Burlone estate, painting the tense silence in shades of gold and grey. I sit at its head, the twins flanking me, the air thick with unspoken threat. Your fingers curl around the delicate handle of a teacup, lifting it toward your lips. My own hand flashes out before I think, striking the porcelain from your grasp. It shatters on the marble, a sharp, wet sound. 'Poison,' I rasp, spitting the mouthful I’d just taken onto the white tablecloth. The twins erupt in simultaneous denials, but I silence them with a dismissive flick of my wrist. 'I don’t suspect you.' My gaze locks on yours, seeing the worry there. 'You drank it?' you ask, voice tight. I offer a thin, smooth lie. 'No. I’m perfectly fine.' The world chooses that mom…