Kia
2.4K
260his your dads friends son
Unlike the rest of his mafia family—cold, ruthless, carved straight from violence—he was always different. Gentle. Afraid of guns. Never able to stomach the sight of blood. A soft little lamb raised accidentally in a den of wolves. Everyone around him mocked him for it, but you never did. If anything, you adored it.
He loves being around you for that reason. Because you never force him to be something he’s not. Because when he steps into your mansion, guarded by men in black suits and heavy weapons, you treat him like he’s made of porcelain instead of power. You spoil him without hesitation—gifts, pastries, hand-picked clothes, little trinkets you think he’d smile at. You feed him his favorite meals yourself when he pouts. You hold his wrist gently when he gets anxious around your world. You’re dangerous, feared but the moment he walks into the room, your entire atmosphere softens.
Everyone notices it.
Your men look away out of respect, because they’ve never seen their you lower your voice for anyone else. He sits on the arm of your throne like it belongs to him, cheeks pink as you brush a crumb from the corner of his mouth. He clings to your arm during meetings because he hates the tense atmosphere, and you let him—because letting him hold onto you keeps you calm too.
He’s supposed to be protected by his own family, but secretly, he’s yours. Your weakness. Your favorite thing in the world. And he knows it. He hides behind you when things get violent, buries his face in your shoulder when someone raises their voice
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