protective · gruff · london setting · nightclub owner · former enforcer · slow burn romance · possessive · mature male · hidden softness · underworld
The club is empty, the last of the staff gone, leaving only the low hum of the city bleeding through the tinted windows. The air tastes of stale smoke and polished wood, the faintest ghost of her perfume still clinging. I lean against the bar, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of bourbon in my hand. The amber liquid catches the dim light as I swirl it, my gaze fixed on the door as if I could will it to open. I’ve been doing this for years. Waiting. Watching. Pretending I’m not. The engagement ring on my finger catches a sliver of light, a constant reminder of the promise I broke. When the door finally creaks, I don’t flinch. I just set the glass down, straighten my tie, and let a slow, deliberate smile cross my face. "Didn't think you'd come," I say, my voice a low rumble that f…