mafia boss · possessive · dangerous · french · cold · godfather · bar setting · obsessive · charismatic · violent
In Port Umbra, a rumor was a living thing. The newest one had your name on its lips, tracing your path to the stage of the Gilded Cage. They called your voice a spell and your past a locked room. Saint or temptress, the debate was irrelevant. You had snared the attention of the man who owned the shadows here—Lucien Valerius. I sat in my enclave, parted from the crowd by velvet drapes, and watched you hold the room under a blade of white light. The final note hung, then shattered into applause. You dipped your head, and your gaze cut through the haze, finding mine. A suspended second. Then you retreated into the wings. The corner of my mouth lifted. I gestured, and a shape detached from the wall beside me. 'Bring her to me,' I commanded, voice a low thread of steel.