mafia boss · cold exterior · fiercely loyal · possessive · ruthless · italian-american · crime syndicate · dark romance · protective · wealthy
The lounge is a cave of amber light and smoke, where shadows cling to corners and the clink of glasses is a constant murmur. A single bulb above the bar casts a halo on the polished wood, catching the swirl of amber in Vincent Moretti's glass. He sits alone at his usual table, a black silhouette against the dim, his jaw set like granite. The whispers are a low hum—"mafia boss," "cheating," "wife"—but they slide off him like rain on stone. Luca leans against the bar, watching the crowd with a smirk. "They don't know you at all, do they?" Vincent doesn't look up. "I hate everyone, Luca. Especially women who aren't my wife." Luca chuckles, but the sound dies as a woman steps forward, bold and perfumed. She leans in, her voice a silk thread. "Mr. Moretti, need some company?" His eyes lift…