#Don Massimo Torricelli imagines

[multific]

The Storm Before the Calm

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to days of painful silence between you and Massimo. Frustrated, you leave the estate for space, only to get caught in a brutal storm.

The silence between you and Massimo was deafening.

It had been days since your last real conversation, a simple misunderstanding spiralling into something neither of you had the patience or pride to fix.

You missed him, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But his cold indifference cut deep, and you refused to be the first to break.

Frustrated, you left the estate, needing space to clear your head.

The Sicilian air was thick with humidity, the sky an ominous shade of grey.

You barely noticed the shift, too lost in your thoughts, until the first raindrop landed on your skin.

Then another. And another.

Within moments, the sky unleashed its fury.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, the wind howling as you struggled to find shelter.

You were too far from home now, drenched and shivering, your stubbornness having led you into the heart of the storm.

Then, through the chaos, you heard it.

The roar of an engine.

Headlights sliced through the rain, and before you could even process it, the car jerked to a stop beside you.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Massimo.

His expression was unreadable as he stepped out, the rain instantly soaking his perfect suit.

His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than the storm itself.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, voice rough, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but he was already reaching for you, his large hands gripping your arms as he pulled you under the shelter of his body. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he murmured, his breath warm against your chilled skin.

His hands ran down your arms as if checking for any signs of harm.

“I didn’t mean to be out this long,” you admitted softly, watching as something in his expression cracked.

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled sharply. “Dio, I’ve been going insane.” He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the rain—or maybe the tears you hadn’t realized had mixed with it. “You left angry. I thought-” He stopped, and for the first time in days, you saw it.

The worry. The fear. The cold expressionless eyes were now filled with every emotion.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whispered, pressing a cold hand over his racing heart. “I just needed to think.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

“Then next time, think in the house. With me.”

You barely had time to nod before his lips crashed onto yours.

He tasted like rain and something more profound, like a man holding back far too much for far too long. And when he finally pulled you into the car, wrapping you in his jacket, you knew the storm between you had finally passed.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ariesmadness97]

Him : “I'll take you to the candy shop”

So take me baby😏😏

[multific]

The Widow and the Don

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: He came to offer condolences. He stayed to keep you breathing. But as the walls fall between you and Massimo, a darker truth about your husband’s death begins to surface.

Your husband’s funeral was a blur of black veils, cold condolences, and the scent of lilies so thick it clung to your skin for days.

They all told you how sorry they were. How tragic it was. How he died too young.

No one mentioned how afraid he’d been the last few months. Or how he’d wake in the night, soaked in sweat, whispering a name.

Massimo Torricelli.

You’d never met the man.

Only heard of him in whispers, in half-spoken warnings behind locked doors. He was your husband’s rival.

A king in his own right. Untouchable.

So when he showed up at the funeral, black suit, face unreadable, you didn’t know what to expect.

He brought no bodyguards. No condolences. Just himself.

And a single white rose.

He placed it on the casket and looked straight at you. His voice, deep and low, barely rose above the wind.

“I didn’t come to gloat,” he said. “I came to see if you were still standing.”

Then he left.

He didn’t reach out again. Not for weeks.

You thought that was it.

Until you opened your door one rainy evening to find him standing there with an umbrella and a bottle of wine.

You should’ve shut the door.

You didn’t.

You had tea the first time. Wine the second. Silence the third.

He didn’t try to charm you. He didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t dangerous. But there was something else behind his eyes, something wounded. Something honest.

One night, in front of the fireplace, you finally asked him.

“Did you hate him? My husband.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then nodded, just once.

“Yes. But I never wanted him dead.”

You believed him.

And that terrified you.

You didn’t mean to start needing him. But grief is lonely. Cold. Quiet.

Massimo wasn’t.

He didn’t speak in soft platitudes. He didn’t try to fix you. He just stayed, grounded, solid.

He brought you food when you forgot to eat. Stood behind you when you couldn’t walk into the bedroom alone. He listened when you broke.

And once, just once, he held you when you sobbed so hard your body gave out.

“I feel like I’m disappearing,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said. “I see you.”

It was inevitable.

The kiss.

It happened late, after too many shared glasses of red wine, when his hand brushed yours and you didn’t pull away.

He looked at you like he was waiting for permission. You gave it.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t violent. It wasn’t possessive. It was reverent.

As if you were holy.

But the truth didn’t stay buried.

You found it in an envelope hidden in your husband’s study—letters, threats, a deal gone wrong.

Massimo hadn’t killed him.

Your husband had planned his own betrayal. And it backfired.

You brought the evidence to Massimo, shaking.

He read it, then set it down carefully.

“I suspected,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be the one to show you.”

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know the truth?”

“I thought you deserved peace. Not war.”

The next morning, you packed your things.

He found you at the doorway.

“I’m not leaving because of the truth,” you told him. “I’m leaving because I’m falling in love with the man I was raised to hate.”

His voice was low. “Then stay.”

You hesitated.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I,” he said, stepping closer. “But I would rather face a thousand enemies than live one day without you.”

You stayed.

And together, you rebuilt, not just a home, but a life.

Years passed.

Grief faded.

Love didn’t.

Massimo never tried to replace your past. He just made sure you had a future.

One night, as you watched the stars from the same balcony where he first kissed you, he took your hand.

“I was your enemy once,” he said.

You smiled. “Now you’re everything.”

And he was.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/