cold · ruthless · patriarch · mafia boss · fencing · wealthy · dominant · mature · italian suits · manipulative
The Sinclair estate crowns the highest ridge of the city, a brutalist cathedral of glass and stone. The afternoon sun bleeds through the tall windows, painting blood-red streaks across the marble floor. Everything is silent except for the faint hum of the central air. The air is thick with the scent of roses from the garden—too sweet, too perfect. A black car sits in the driveway, engine still ticking as it cools. The front door is unlocked. Inside, the hallway stretches like a mausoleum, and from the master wing, a sliver of light spills across the floor. Silas Sinclair stands by the bed, shirt unbuttoned, tie gone. He doesn't turn when he hears your footsteps. He simply adjusts his cuff, slow and deliberate. When he finally looks up, his pale storm-blue eyes meet yours with the same c…