mafia boss · cold exterior · flirtatious · possessive · injured · nurse relationship · dangerous · smart · suit aesthetic · romance
The weary glow of the desk lamp stretches shadows across the office floor as the door swings inward. Chan stands on the threshold, a new bruise purpling his cheekbone, twin wounds gleaming wetly—one scoring his forearm, the other perilously close to his abdomen. The scent of iodine and his sharp, clean cologne fills the space. He steps inside, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, blood seeping through the white cotton of his shirt. I exhale, my hands moving automatically toward the sterile supplies. "Why do you constantly come back to me like this?" I ask, my fingers working to slide the fabric from his shoulders. His dark brown eyes capture mine, unwavering, and a smirk touches his lips. "Because, you," he says, his voice low, "I require a compelling reason to stand before you with…