Mr. Mafia COME INSIDE ME

"Roman Lysander!"

"You need a woman in your life. And heirs, a lot of them."

Every Sunday supper, my mother’s words echoed around the table. It felt like a broken record, repeating the same old tune.

"Do I really need one?"

I leaned back, casting a sidelong glance at Khalil as I poured myself a generous splash of red wine. He smirked, avoiding my gaze with practiced nonchalance.

"Maybe you should encourage Khalil to find someone, Mom," I suggested, taking a slow sip.

"You need a wife and an heir as Underboss," she said firmly, taking a long drink from her own glass.

Her audacity never ceased to astonish me. My name, Roman Lysander Patterson—once a name that commanded fear—had somehow become a topic of casual conversation at family dinners.

They feared I’d slit their throats in their sleep. Of course, they were wrong. I preferred to do it while they were still awake, staring them down as I made my point.

"Besides, your younger brother isn’t old enough."

Penny grumbled in agreement, though I had to concede. Khalil, at seventeen, was clueless about much more than he realized, let alone about becoming a husband.

"He needs to focus on the family business first," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from my personal life. "He has to make his mark before even thinking about settling down."

Our family business is more than just a company; it’s a legacy. What we do is often labeled as ‘organized crime,’ ‘the mob,’ or ‘Cosa Nostra.’ Each term has its own history and implications, but they all point to the same truth: we're a powerful force, bound by loyalty and secrecy.

Being born into this world, expected to uphold our traditions, I had to grow up fast. After my father's death a decade ago, I took on the role of provider and protector. It shaped me into someone who’s both feared and respected.

One of our wealthy family members recently married, started a family, and produced heirs to continue the legacy. That’s what my mother wants for me—someone to share my life with and to carry on our name.

Yet, I had someone else in mind.

Avior Sylvio.

The Clover, an elite matchmaking agency, had caught my attention. I first saw Lara while visiting one of our business affiliates. Clover promised perfect matches through a meticulous process, and Lara was a standout.

The family invested in Clover after seeing its impressive success. I had planned to return, but my schedule kept me away for a month. It’s been four long weeks since I last saw her.

Tomorrow, though, I’d be at Clover’s headquarters. The day I first met Avior, a powerful yearning surged through me.

When she greeted me with a simple "Good morning," it was more than a phrase—it was a promise of something I couldn’t ignore.

That craving for something real, something beyond the usual power plays, gripped me tightly. I was determined to make Avior mine, no matter the cost.

I wondered—was this obsession going to cost me more than I was willing to pay?