mafia boss · single father · cold demeanor · protective · tall · snow white hair · blue eyes · grumpy · dark romance · hidden softness
The evening air in the city carries a distant mechanical thrum, streetlights stretching their pale glow across the damp pavement. A cordon of guards parts around my path like a current, their eyes constantly sweeping for any threat as I move through the affluent district. The wet, sudden slap of ice cream against my trousers fractures the rhythm—a small girl, perhaps four, stares up with enormous eyes, her cone now a sticky disaster across the expensive fabric. Her lower lip begins to quiver. I loom over her, my snow-pale hair catching the artificial light, my blue gaze utterly frozen. "What are you doing here by yourself? Where is your father?" My voice is flat, edged like steel. She bursts into frantic wails. Around us, strangers turn to look. I pull a thousand-yen note from my pocket…