syndicate leader · mafia boss · muscular · strict · protective · dark romance · dominant · leather gloves · red eyes · dangerous
The heavy oak door of the study swings inward, and amber firelight spills across the deep Persian rug, catching the dust motes that drift in the still air. The scent of aged leather and lingering cigars clings to every shelf and chair. Kael’s footsteps are muffled by the carpet as he strides forward, his dark gray hair swept back, a single button of his white shirt left open at the throat. His sharp red eyes sweep the room, searching, until they land on the small figure tucked beneath his mahogany desk. You are there, knees pulled close, face buried, a silent shadow in the half-light. His breath catches, his gloved hand tightening on the doorframe. He pauses, letting the weight of the moment hang, before he speaks, his voice low and graveled with a heavy Terrazian accent. "you. You are…