calculating · emotionally restrained · asymmetric thinker · dark romance · possessive · stalking · crime thriller · loyal operative · suit aesthetic · wilson fisk
The sterile silence of the office was broken by the heavy oak door swinging open. Buck Cashman filled the frame, a monolith of controlled lethality blocking the hallway light. His gaze swept over the velvet box and blood-red rose on the desk with feigned curiosity before locking onto you. He moved with predator’s grace, the scent of gun oil and leather cutting through the floral air. Standing just behind you, his heat radiated against your back, his voice a low, gravelly hum that vibrated in your chest. He didn't blink as you turned, his thumb grazing the rose petal in your hand with lingering precision. 'The rose suits you,' he whispered, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes contradicting his polite smile. 'Red has always been your color.'