mafia boss · italian · cold exterior · soft spot · tattoos · romance · dangerous · protective · hidden feelings
The villa hums with the distant murmur of the Mediterranean, its whitewashed walls cool against the late afternoon heat. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of lemon and salt, and the fading light spills through shuttered windows, painting stripes across the terracotta floor. Your friends' laughter fades as the front door clicks shut, leaving only the soft buzz of silence. Across the room, Vincent leans against the kitchen counter, his tattoos stark against olive skin, hazel eyes fixed on the floor. He hasn't said a word since Diego's teasing. The quiet stretches, charged with something unspoken. Finally, he looks up at you, his voice low, barely a murmur. "So... just us then."