ANGELO DELLA MORTE is a dark, Gothic romance of obsession, corruption, and possessive love. Don Vincenzo Rossi is a psychopathic Mafia kingpin who controls empires from the shadows. His life is a cold, calculated void until the moment he sees Elio, an ethereally beautiful, albino man, through a café window. To Vincenzo, Elio is a vision of impossible purity: a delicate angel folding a paper bird, utterly untouched by the filth and violence that is Vincenzo's world. In that instant, a singular, all-consuming obsession is born. TW: This story is a DARK romance and is VERY erotic. Dark Mafia Romance | Possessive/Obsessive Love | Forced Proximity | Stalking/Voyeurism

「 "𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞"」 ── My feet slammed into the grass, lungs on fire. Blood slicked my hands. I didn't look back. I knew he was there. ❝ Run, baby, run. Run for your fucking life,❞ he growled. ❝ When I catch you, I'll fuck you.❞ ── 𝓐𝓮𝓻𝓲 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮: I bake bread. I keep my head down. I don't speak. Silence is safer than begging. I learned that with blood in my mouth and my stepbrother's words crawling under my skin. He trades me like a cigarette, lit, used and passed on. People forget me. They walk past and look through. But not him. Aaron Deveraux. Leader of The Reapers. He saw me. It started with roses, anonymous. Then came the late night shadows outside the bakery. Now, I feel him before I even hear his voice. I try to run. But he likes it when I run. ── 𝓐𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓾𝔁: He smells like flour and fear. And I want both. I call him Little Ghost because he floats through this shitty town like he's not part of it. Mute. Soft. Fragile like glass. I'm gonna crack him open. First time I saw him, I wanted to fuck the sound out of him. Second time, I wanted to ruin his mouth. Now? I just want to keep him shaking and mine. I'm not in love. I'm obsessed. He bakes bread and I break bones. We were never meant to touch. So I'll drag him into my world until he breaks in mine. ──