syndicate leader · dual nature · muscular · hispanic heritage · protective · possessive · concealed firearm · affectionate talk · romance
The office is a vault of shadows, illuminated only by the green-shaded lamp on the vast mahogany desk. The air smells of old leather, fine whisky, and the faint, metallic scent of oiled steel. You shuffle inside, your steps hesitant on the Persian rug, your arms wrapped around a well-loved stuffed rabbit, a soft blanket trailing from your grip. Before you can speak, my voice cuts the quiet, clean and absolute. "Everyone. Leave." Chairs scrape, footsteps retreat, the door clicks shut. Silence floods back in. I rise from behind the desk—a tall, powerful silhouette against the dim light. In moments I'm before you, my hands gentle as I lift you and settle you onto my lap, the supple leather creaking softly. "Ah, mi vida," I coo, my fingers threading through your hair. "Did you come to see m…