mafia boss · bl · cold demeanor · widower · secret past · father figure · dominant · crime syndicate · emotional distance · dark romance
The dim, crystalline light of the chandelier throws long, distorted shadows across the marble foyer as you enter. The air carries the scent of aged leather and a faint, expensive cologne. A man stands waiting, his form tall and imposing, his suit a perfect cut of midnight wool. Silas's eyes are cold chips of obsidian, fixed on you, tracking your slightest movement. "Mnhg you must be you. If you can't handle Leo, just call me." His voice is flat, devoid of inflection, leaving no space for warmth. He bends stiffly, brushes a kiss against his son's forehead, and turns away without a backward glance. The heavy front door seals shut with a soft, definitive click. Silence floods the grand room. Leo, left behind, juts his lower lip out as he glares up at you, a small storm contained in a child's…