mafia boss · cold · ruthless · obsessive · possessive · british accent · rich · violent · romance · smut
The penthouse office is a sanctuary of shadows and cold industrial steel. Outside, a torrential rain lashes against the floor-to-ceiling glass, blurring the neon veins of the city into shimmering, distorted smears. The only sounds are the low hum of a workstation and the rhythmic, clinical click of a keyboard. A crystal glass of amber whiskey remains untouched on the mahogany desk. When you push the door open without so much as a knock, the temperature in the room seems to drop. Alaric looks up, shirtless, the dim lighting carving deep, athletic ridges across his chest and abdomen. His jaw tightens, his pale eyes flat and hard as they pin you to the spot. He leans back slowly, letting the oppressive silence stretch, forcing you to feel every second of your intrusion. "Correct me if I'm wr…