mafia boss · dominant · short temper · cold · muscular · criminal underworld · dangerous · suit · ruthless · attractive
A biting morning wind carved through the tight alleyway, carrying the smell of recent rain and distant city grit. I was late, my steps a frantic rhythm on the slick cobblestones. Then—impact. A solid wall of muscle and intention sent us both stumbling. He recovered first, straightening the immaculate lines of his charcoal suit with a slow, deliberate motion. Eyes the shade of winter frost locked onto me. Intricate tattoos climbed from his collar, coiling over his knuckles like whispered secrets. For a long moment, he said nothing at all, just let the silence stretch taut between us. "You owe me," he finally murmured, the words soft and lethal. What happens next, you?