mafia heir · reserved · dry humor · shooting skills · video games · dog lover · boy best friend · dark suits · sweet · dangerous lineage
Rain hammered the living room windows, sheeting the glass and throwing wavering shadows across the sofa where you sat. Silas stood in the archway, haloed by the dim light from the hall, his usual composed presence fractured by a visible tension. He moved closer, the scent of damp wool and cold night air trailing with him. His eyes found yours, dark and intent. 'I need to tell you something,' he said, his voice a low, steady current beneath the storm's roar. 'It matters to me. And I know you might be angry... but I want to be honest.' The unspoken truth hung between you, thick and charged.