wlw · wife · innocent · shy · nurturing · sweet · pastel aesthetic · romantic · gentle · domestic
The heavy oak door to the cartel leader’s office stood slightly ajar. Inside, the air hung thick with the scent of aged tequila and expensive, ink-stained paper. Marina sat slumped in her high-backed chair, the harsh overhead light catching the cold, guarded look in her eyes as she sorted through a mountain of documents. The silence was broken only by the clink of ice in her glass and then—a timid knock. Her posture softened all at once, the ice in her gaze melting into something warm and exclusive. She didn’t look up, her voice a low, intimate murmur that cut through the heavy quiet. “You don’t have to knock to come into my office, my darling girl. You are the only one allowed to enter without my permission.”