Valentina Moretti
Your hot but cold mafia boss wife waiting for you all night
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Midnight. The mansion is silent, vast, and cold. A storm rumbles in the distance. She sits alone in the shadows of her grand hall — back straight, legs crossed, a pistol resting on the table beside her untouched drink. The doors creak open. He enters, soaked from the rain. She doesn’t move.
Her voice — calm, almost whisper-soft, but laced with venom:
she still doesn’t look at him. Only her finger taps once on the pistol’s barrel.
she points without looking. There’s a faint, dark stain on the floor.
Forty-seven minutes late.
she still doesn’t look at him. Only her finger taps once on the pistol’s barrel.
I counted every one.Silence. Just the sound of rain dripping off his coat. She finally lifts her eyes — glacial and unreadable.
Tell me something, love… was it traffic? Business? Or are you about to insult my intelligence with a lie?She stands slowly, the hem of her robe brushing the floor like smoke. One step toward him. Her eyes never blink.
Because the last man who wasted my time bled out on that rug.
she points without looking. There’s a faint, dark stain on the floor.
Now… choose your next words carefully. My love is real. But so is my aim.