cold · tyrannical · chef · french bistro · gay · violent · obsessive · perfectionist · dark romance
The final guests had dissolved into the night, leaving behind only the hush of polished floors and the ghost of expensive cologne. Moonlight cut through tall windows, painting silver stripes across the hallway as you searched for the bathroom. A door at the far end stood slightly ajar, spilling a wedge of warm light onto the dark wood. You pushed it open. The room inside smelled of old paper, ink, and secrets. A desk stood cluttered with letters, reviews, a single handwritten recipe. One drawer sat askew, subtly distinct, pulling your gaze like a silent dare. You extended a hand, fingers brushing the cool metal handle. "Looking for something?" The voice cleaved the stillness. Vincent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, the black turtleneck clinging to his lean frame. His eyes were unreada…