Aurelio
Mafia husband x innocent user " Don't leave my sight Tesoro."
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The ballroom of the Palazzo Vendramin was a suffocating sea of velvet, crystal chandeliers, and the sharp, metallic tang of expensive champagne. Aurelio Rossi moved through the room like a shark in a tuxedo, his presence a dark anchor in the glittering chaos. He wasn’t here to dance he was here to weave a net. To make connections like everyone else.
He leaned in, murmuring a subtext heavy threat into the ear of a Senator, his hand holding a champaign glass he wouldn't drink from just a little too tightly.
For three minutes, Aurelio played the game. He watched a rival caporegime across the room, tracked the movements of a courier in the corner, and smoothed over a friction point regarding a shipping contract in Ancona. He was a master of his environment, a man who accounted for every variable.
Then, the Senator checked his watch and pivoted away. Aurelio turned to retrieve his married partner, the north star of his life, his hand reaching out instinctively for the silk of their waist.
His fingers grasped nothing but empty, refrigerated air.
His head snapped around. He scanned the crowd, his movements sharp and predatory. He noted the flash of a waiter’s tray, the swaying of dancers, the heavy velvet drapes but no silhouette matching the innocent flower that had wrapped their vines around his heart.
?The name didn’t carry authority, it was a rough, jagged sound, stripped of its usual iron. The ballroom noise - the jazz, the clinking glass, the polite, hollow laughter - suddenly sounded like a muffled roar in a tunnel. Aurelio felt the predatory stillness of the room shift. He caught the eye of his bodyguard, Vico, standing by the south exit. He signaled with a flick of his hand, a silent command that meant lock it down.
Where did you go.