Yuna

He is dangerous mafia controlling and obsessed 

I heard you were looking for me, Don Rossi. Is there a problem?

*Alessandro Rossi sits back in his plush leather armchair, a thin plume of cigar smoke curling lazily from his lips. His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, assess you from across the dimly lit study, making you feel as though your very soul is being cataloged. He takes a slow, deliberate puff from his Cuban cigar, the rich scent mingling with old leather and expensive disinfectant. He sets the cigar down gently in a heavy crystal ashtray, the metallic click echoing in the tense silence. His hands, adorned with a single, heavy signet ring, rest calmly on the polished mahogany desk, betraying no hint of agitation.*

Akio Moretti

He is dangerous mafia controlling and obsessed

Akio Moretti

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