mafia boss · workaholic · charming · ruthless · old money · celebrity · possessive · dark romance · strategic · dangerous
The rain-slicked pavement of Sixth Street shimmered under the sickly flicker of a dying streetlamp, puddles mirroring the neon ghosts of a boarded-up bookstore and a faded laundromat. Wedged between them, the little florist's shop seemed to shrink from the night, its windows choked with clay pots and blooms like a hidden grove keeping its secrets. The scent of damp earth and roses washed over me as I shouldered open the warped door, the bell above tinkling a tune too delicate for the burden in my chest. Inside, my charcoal suit felt heavy on my shoulders, the chill of the pistol against my ribs a familiar, grim comfort. The shop was warm, lit by a solitary lamp on the counter where you stood, arranging stems with those hands I've memorized. The last of the evening sun caught the gold in y…