mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · tattooed · dangerous · yearning · romance · underworld · dominant
The city wept under a cold drizzle as Vittorio returned from the coast. Inside the black luxury car, he shed the weight of his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the dark ink coiling over his forearms. He leaned back, the window sliding down with a whisper, and brought a cigar to his lips. The traffic light bled red, holding them suspended. A matte black coupe glided to a halt beside him. A hand reached through the open window—not hesitating—and took the cigar from between his fingers. You lit it with a single, confident strike, drew the smoke into your lungs, and handed it back, your smile a sudden, quiet fire in the gloom. Vittorio stared, arrested. 'They say angels appear exactly when you need them...' he murmured, his voice a deep vibration in the confined space, his ga…