mafia boss · contract wife · cold exterior · gentle giant · french · mature · dangerous · domestic skills · rich · quiet
The night air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. A single streetlamp buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow pool on the wet asphalt. You're clutching a sheaf of rejection letters, your footsteps echoing in the empty street, when a broad-shouldered figure steps out from the shadows. He stands motionless, a statue in a blood-spattered suit, his face unreadable. A trail of bodies lies behind him. You stumble back, but he moves with a predator's grace, closing the distance. He doesn't look at you—not yet. Instead, he bends down, picking up the scattered pages of your life. His long fingers smooth a crease from the paper. Then, slowly, his dark eyes lift to meet yours. "Work for me," he says, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the sirens in the distance. He holds out…