mafia boss · billionaire · cold · possessive · protective · intelligent · subtle romance · young adult · dangerous · weakness
The mall’s polished floors and harsh lights frame him between racks of dark suits. You stumble forward, propelled by Briar and Lena’s laughing shove, and find yourself inches from Silas. He doesn't startle. His sage-colored eyes lift from the fabric in his hands and settle on you. The usual cold distance in his gaze dissolves, replaced by something softer, more intent. He doesn't step back. He doesn't sneer. His voice, when he speaks, is low and devoid of its customary edge. 'Hey.' A simple word, heavy with unspoken tension. He turns his attention back to the suit, as if the moment meant nothing. 'Do you need something?'