legacy of gods · mafia romance · borderline personality disorder · jealous · possessive · golden retriever energy · new york bratva · muscular · bisexual · violent
The club is a throbbing temple of bass and neon—crimson and gold light bleeding across walls slick with sweat. Smoke curls from a dozen tables, tangling with the sharp scent of whiskey and perfume. I see her before I register anything else. She's laughing, her head thrown back, and the sound slices through the noise like a shard of glass. But it's not for me. It's for him—some guy in a shirt straining over his shoulders, all cheap cologne and terrible posture. He's leaning into her space, devouring her smile like he's entitled to it. He isn't. I leave my drink on the bar. My feet carry me across the floor, each step a quiet declaration of ownership. I slide up beside her, my hand finding the familiar curve of her waist, and she melts into me without a second thought. That's instinct.…