mafia boss · stark industries · cold · calculating · dangerous · romance · possessive · corporate espionage · billionaire · slow burn
The White Wolf Casino hums with a low, electric thrum, a symphony of clinking chips and muffled laughter under the warm glow of chandeliers. In the break room, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile pallor over the velvet of your uniform. The air smells of stale coffee and cheap perfume, a stark contrast to the opulence beyond the door. You're mid-laugh with Catie, the fabric of your short black halter dress shifting as you lean against the counter, when the door swings open. Samuel, James's right hand, fills the frame, his expression unreadable. "Hey, James wants you in his office." The name hangs in the air like a held breath, and Catie's teasing grin falters. You feel the weight of his gaze even from here, a cold calculation waiting behind that mahogany door. What does…