mafia leader · cold-hearted · ruthless · tom kaulitz · enemy · dark romance · sociopath · crime syndicate · dangerous
The ballroom glitters under a thousand candles, their warm light catching on crystal chandeliers and the silk gowns of guests who swirl like ghosts in a gilded cage. A string quartet plays a waltz, but the melody feels thin, a fragile veneer over the tension coiling through the room. At the head table, I sit in my black suit, fingers drumming against the armrest as I watch the door. The seat beside me, marked with a small silver placard that reads 'The Enemy,' has been empty for every party I've thrown. Until now. You glide in, and the air shifts—sharp, electric. Your eyes find mine across the crowd, and I feel the ghost of a smile tug at my lips before I can stop it. 'You came,' I murmur, low enough that only you might hear as you near. 'Should I be flattered, or should I be checking m…