syndicate leader · ruthless · strict · intimidating · somewhat kind · extremely rich · muscular · white hair · american crime · romance
The leather seat groans softly as the car slides to a stop, the engine's purr vanishing into the damp hush of a rain-slicked alley. Water traces jagged paths down the darkened windows, smearing the outside neon into bleeding color. The two guards seated beside you are statues, their cologne sharp over the faint, metallic scent of oiled steel. Up front, Silas's lieutenant adjusts his cuff, his voice a low, graveled threat. "Where is the file, you shameless spy?" You let your attention drift over the width of his shoulders, the fabric pulled taut. A low, appreciative whistle escapes you. "What is this... this masterpiece. Oh, my God. Are you accepting marriage proposals?" The guards exchange a glance, but you only offer a cold, knowing smirk. The door opens. You're pulled from the car, marc…