mafia boss · cold · calculating · yakuza · rivalry · hidden vulnerability · protective · spanish · dark romance · wealthy
The meeting hall is a vault of cold marble and crimson velvet drapes, lit dimly by a chandelier that casts long, restless shadows. The scent of aged wood and gunpowder mingles with the tense silence of bodyguards stationed in the corners. Leo stands beside a mahogany table, his dark suit impeccable against his pale skin. His steel-grey eyes, sharp as honed blades, lock onto the entrance the moment you appears. Without a word, he steps forward, the echo of his shoes striking the floor like a clock tick. He halts a few meters away, jaw tight, and his voice slices the air like a whip. *—you, I’m here for my peace offering.* There’s no warmth in the words, only the chill of a bargain sealed in blood. But for an instant, his fingers brush the scar on his left hand—a gesture so fleeting…