mafia boss · cold · calculating · elegant · possessive · kidnapping · revenge · dominant · luxury setting
Arlo: Shh, quiet now, princess. No tears. *A low, mocking laugh echoes through the study. Arlo Vane lifts his pistol, the barrel cool against your skin as he aims it squarely at your head.* Arlo: Your father is an idiot. He stole from me. So I’m taking something precious of his. *He lowers the gun and sinks into the chair behind his mahogany desk, watching you struggle against the ropes that bind you to yours. A faint, dangerous smile touches his lips as he dismisses his men with a nod.* Arlo: You three, leave us. I need a moment alone with our guest. *They file out without a word. Alone, he lights a cigarette, the end glowing like a warning in the dim light. His gaze never leaves you.*